


Winged Cupid Painted

by morningsound15



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blind Character, F/F, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 86,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6194170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningsound15/pseuds/morningsound15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you’re born blind, you learn not to put faith in romantic dreams like ‘soulmates’. The world is black, just black, and Raven will never see anything, so there’s no point in believing in dumb fairytales like colors or soulmates or destiny.</p>
<p>Soulmate color AU. Everything is black and white and grey until the first time you lay eyes on your soulmate, and then your world explodes into color.</p>
<p>or: how do you tell someone you just met that you’re their soulmate, especially when they have no idea?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”
> 
> –William Shakespeare

When Octavia Blake saw Raven Reyes for the first time, she was standing next to Clarke Griffin and was wholly unprepared. Clarke had dragged Octavia all the way across campus to some small apartment just outside the boundary of the eastern edge of the college grounds. A girl lived there; a girl Clarke couldn’t seem to get out of her mind; a girl with a roommate who didn’t like parties but who would tolerate just this one because it was her friend’s birthday (and she was considerate like that).

Clarke dragged Octavia to this party because Clarke was desperately (stupidly, quickly) falling in love with this girl, Lexa Woods, and she needed ‘backup’ because she was meeting Lexa’s friends for the first time (“ _I can’t just go by myself Octavia, what if they hate me?”)_.

So she went. She let Clarke drag her out of their shared apartment and across campus to a stranger’s house and a stranger’s birthday party because… well because she loved Clarke, and if Clarke needed backup Octavia would be her backup. And honestly she was more than a little curious about who exactly could turn her best friend from a mopey art student into an energized, frazzled mess. There must have been something special about this Lexa Woods.

So yes, Octavia was there for backup. But she was also there because Clarke – as mopey and as stupid as she may be for falling in love with a girl she’s barely known a month – had met her soulmate. And soulmates weren’t the kind of thing you could just _ignore_.

(Octavia had never actually personally known someone who had found their soulmate, prior to Clarke.)

(Even her parents, who loved each other deeply until her father’s death, hadn’t been soulmates. It was exceedingly, exceptionally rare.)

(7 billion people on the planet, what were the odds you were actually going to meet and find and love the one person the universe had destined for you to meet and find and love? Most people never met their soulmate. Some – the lucky – found their soulmate when they were young and impulsive and prone to quick and messy romance and attraction and longed for a future of destined happiness. But even for them, for these lucky few, for 4% of the population, it was never so easy. Sometimes destiny and fate aren’t enough to force love.)

(Some – the bitter – found their soulmate when they were already old and loved and married; when they had long ago lost their belief in ‘true love’ and in ‘destiny’ and in ‘fate’ and in colors.)

(And some – the miserable – found that their soulmate wasn’t actually meant to be with them. They found that the (cruel) universe had them paired with someone who was already someone else’s soulmate; had them seeing color but their partner’s vision remained staunchly black-and-white; or had them destined to be with someone who they would never be able to love. It wasn’t always terrible. Some people were happy to be platonically involved with their soulmates. Some were not.)

Most people never met their soulmate, so when it _did_ happen… well, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Octavia to witness. She wasn’t about to pass it up. Most people never met their soulmate, and most people lived perfectly happy and fulfilled existences _without_ their soulmate. So when it happened…

Clarke was her best friend and one of the absolute best people in the world. So her soulmate must be something really special.

What Octavia didn’t know (but was soon to find out) was that Lexa Woods wasn’t _really_ that special, in any sense of the word (if she had said that out loud, Clarke – defensive asshole that she was – would have punched her _hard_ so she kept it to herself). Lexa seemed perfectly lovely – if a little quiet, if a little intense – but besides that Octavia couldn’t really see what all the fuss was about. (Weren’t soulmates supposed to be extraordinary? Wasn’t their love supposed to level mountains? Weren’t they supposed to be this unstoppable magnetic force?)

Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods were just… ordinary. Two awkward people falling in love very quickly. Hardly anything to write stories or legends or songs about.

Actually, the most interesting thing about Lexa Woods – to Octavia Blake, at least – was the fact that she had a roommate. (“ _Everyone has roommates, Clarke. You have a roommate; in case you’ve forgotten.”_ Clarke merely shot her a look. “ _Lexa’s roommate is different, okay? Just keep an open mind about her.”_ And fuck her if _that_ wasn’t just about the absolute most mysterious thing anyone could have said.)

Lexa Woods had a roommate. And the roommate hated parties.

Not for any moral reason, for she liked drinking about as much as the next person. Truthfully she hated the noise, the crowds, the people in her space and touching her things and moving her shampoo from its spot and knocking her table 6 inches out of place so that the next time she walked into the common room she smashed her shin so hard that she was limping for two weeks. Raven Reyes hated parties and _especially_ parties in her own home.

But it was Lexa’s birthday. It was Lexa’s birthday and they didn’t have more than 10 friends between the two of them anyways, so it wasn’t like this party was going to be insane and out of control and messy. Besides, apparently Lexa’s soulmate was going to be there. She had come bursting into their apartment about a month back (3 weeks? 4 weeks? She should have marked the date), proclaiming loudly, “Raven I met her!” and so _of course_ Raven was going to concede her home for one night to this inane party.

After all, it was her job to help Lexa get laid.

That’s just what a good friend did.

Clarke was an artist. “ _Hard to be an artist when you can’t see colors”_ , Raven had commented under her breath the first time Lexa spoke of the woman, and that comment caused Lexa to walk around in a huff for two days before Raven apologized.

Apparently Clarke _used_ to specialize in charcoal and pencil drawings – things that were only done in grey anyways so it didn’t matter that Clarke didn’t know the color of the sky, or that the ocean could be different shades of blue, or that Lexa Woods’ eyes were _green_ , so _so_ green – but now she painted. She had barely been able to put down a brush in the month Clarke and Lexa have known each other (according to Lexa, who babbles on about this girl like she’s the fucking savior of the universe, the greatest thing since sliced bread).

Lexa told her Clarke had blonde hair and blue eyes. Lexa had brown hair and green eyes. Raven had black hair, and her favorite jacket was red. (Lexa had become very fond, recently, of pointing out the colors of the things around their apartment. “ _That lamp that we keep by the couch is blue, Raven!”_ or, _“The grass is green, but not the same green as trees, and not the same green as your rain jacket, and not the same green as –”_ before Raven had cut her off with a growl.)

Not that any of this mattered to Raven. She’d been blind her whole life; describing the way colors looked was about as useful to her as describing Netflix’s user interface. It didn’t stop Lexa from trying though, and Raven humored her, for the most part, because Lexa hadn’t gotten excited about _anything_ really, not since Costia, so if Raven had to sit and listen to her talk about the different greens of grass and tress – even if it would never matter to her – Raven was willing to do it. Because Clarke Griffin made her best friend happy and excited. And she kind of loved her for it (even though she had never met her).

She wasn’t jealous, either. She was happy, honestly _thrilled_ that Lexa had found someone (maybe if she got laid more frequently she would stop being so uptight about the kinds of foods Raven liked to eat at 2 in the morning when she was on her period and miserable and crabby). She wasn’t jealous that she wouldn’t get to see colors. You couldn’t be jealous of something you’ve never known, or never even known you could miss.

She’s been blind her whole life. Seeing color wasn’t really a priority for her growing up. (But kids at school would talk non-stop about the day they would meet their soulmate – even if it was statistically improbable, and Raven knew the statistics. 96% of the population never even met their soulmate; it was likely all a fantasy. And she’s heard the research, too, from scientists who claim that the ‘soulmate phenomenon’ is simply a romantic explanation for a biological chemical reaction – increased hormone production causes a spike in transduction and the cones located in your retina begin firing for the first time. Not destiny or fate, but biology.)

(Octavia knew the research, too.)

The way Lexa talked about color, though… it ignited a yearning inside of Raven, the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she was 16. She wasn’t _jealous_ , per se, but… but she could listen to Lexa describing color every day for the rest of her life, if she had to. And maybe she didn’t believe in soulmates and destiny (maybe everyone was lying about the color thing – how could she know? She couldn’t even see black and white, let alone…). Maybe she didn’t believe in soulmates and destiny and colors, but… but maybe she didn’t believe in just biology, either.

So she agreed to host this party with Lexa. ( _“It’s not really a_ party _, Raven, it’ll probably just be like… Lincoln and Anya and Clarke and Clarke’s roommate and some beer and some cake”_ and Raven had just rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and conceded that Lexa could do practically whatever she wanted as long as she bought the beer and Raven didn’t have to pay out of pocket for anything. And as long as the cake was chocolate.)

So she was sitting on her couch as people she knew (but didn’t _really_ know) talked loudly around her, laughing and passing phones between them, talking about TV shows, about classes, about soccer and football and baseball and frat parties and Raven was really just trying to figure out how soon was _too soon_ to go back to her room and pretend like this whole night wasn’t giving her the biggest headache she’d ever had. But she loved Lexa. So she opened another beer and grimaced and held her tongue and stayed on the couch amidst people she did not want to interact with.

There was a knock at the door. “Hey Lexa, do you mind?” Raven called out to her roommate.

This was only a formality, an inside joke between the pair of them. (Their freshman year, Lexa seemed to frequently forget that Raven couldn’t actually _see_ and so she was pretty useless at answering the door unless the person on the other side called out to her. Lexa used to ask her to get the door if she was busy studying or cooking, and Raven took great pleasure in flustering her roommate by reminding her that she was pretty blind and couldn’t tell if the person on the other side of the door was _“ a serial killer or something Lexa. God, do you want me to get murdered, and our apartment burglarized?”_ Lexa had grumbled, _“Why would a burglar or serial killer_ knock _on our front door?”_ but Raven knew she had already won that battle, and Lexa didn’t complain again.)

“Hi Clarke. And you must be Octavia. It’s nice to meet you.” Lexa’s voice said from by the door. Raven grinned in spite of herself. She was dying to meet Clarke, the girl who had stolen her uptight roommate’s heart and turned her into a slightly less-uptight version of herself (but Raven still couldn’t wear shoes in the house and where was the justice in _that_?).

She got up and made her way to the door. She knew the layout of their apartment by heart (essential for living in any space, and Raven had become very adept at memorizing spaces) and Lexa never moved the furniture, not even an inch, and she never bought new, thick rugs that tripped Raven up at every turn, and she never left her boots in the middle of the hallway, and she really was a great (and _clean_ ) roommate and that was pretty important to Raven, as far as these things went.

(She didn’t actually mind that Lexa didn’t want her to wear shoes in the house.)

“Hi, I’m Raven.” She said, sticking her hand out in the general direction of the bodies in front of her (she could hear their breathing, feel the slight breeze through the open front door, and she hadn’t heard any footsteps so she knew they weren’t inside the apartment, not yet). “You must be Clarke.”

She felt a warm hand in hers. “It’s really nice to meet you Raven. Lexa’s told me all about you.”

“Absolutely none of it is true.”

Clarke had a nice laugh, throaty and deep. Her voice was soft but husky; she spoke clearly and without pausing (which made Raven suspicious that Lexa had probably notified her that her new girlfriend’s roommate was blind, but it didn’t really bother her as much as it might once have).

“I’ll keep in mind that Lexa is a dirty liar. Thank you for warning me. I can get out of this relationship quickly now.”

Raven could practically _feel_ Lexa glaring at her. She cocked her head and grinned. “I have no doubt you could do better.”

“Sorry about her, Raven’s had a little too much to drink tonight.” There was a menacing tone in Lexa’s voice (but also teasing, always teasing) and Raven waved her off.

“Cool your jets Commander. Clarke knows I’m only kidding. Don’t you Clarke?”

“That I do.”

Raven paused for a minute, head tilted in concentration. “Is there someone else here?”

“Oh!” She felt Clarke (she assumed it was Clarke, for the body did not smell like Lexa) shift to the side. “Sorry, yeah, this is my roommate, Octavia. I made her come with me. I hope that’s okay?” Raven figured this last question was not directed at her, so she stuck her hand out again.

“Hi Octavia. Good to meet you. Welcome to our humble abode.”

A soft hand slipped into hers, and Raven felt herself jump a little (though she did not know why). A quiet, clear, melodious voice floated out from the space in front of her. “Nice to meet you too.” That was all she said.

Raven smiled and stepped to the side. “Strippers get here in 30,” and when she heard Lexa’s disgruntled yelp from somewhere to her left, she interjected, “Only kidding, Lex. Strippers are for your 23rd birthday; wouldn’t wanna waste them on 22.”

Clarke laughed from farther in the room. Raven was still standing by the open door, because she was fairly certain she hadn’t felt Octavia move past her yet. She turned back to the open door. “You’re not a vampire, are you? I don’t need to invite you in?”

Octavia moved past her then, so closely that Raven found herself drowning in a wave of perfume so disarming that she swayed where she stood – though that _could_ have been the alcohol and it wasn’t like she couldn’t get the spins (she couldn’t see but her inner ear worked just fine) – so she ignored it. (Octavia smelled like vanilla with a touch of citrus, which was a very good combination, if Raven did say so herself.)

“Sorry,” the girl’s voice said from behind her and to the left. Raven shut the door. “I guess I’m just… a little surprised.”

“And why is that?”

“You’re blind.”

Raven gasped in mock-horror. “I’m _what_ now?”

Octavia was quick to jump in, spluttering with a clearly mortified apology, “Oh God I am so sorry, that was _so_ rude of me to —”

“Octavia relax,” Raven smiled, “I’m only joking. I’m sorry no one warned you that I can’t see.” She leaned her back against the door. “Sometimes people have trouble with it, you know, so… I’m not exactly _offended_.”

“Why would anyone have trouble with it?”

Raven frowned. “Don’t _you_ have trouble with it?”

“ _No_ , no of course not. I’m sorry I was just… I’ve been thinking recently… you know Clarke and Lexa and the whole soulmate thing… like how do you… how do _you_ know when you’ve found yours?”

Raven shrugged, walking towards where she knew the couch to be (Raven had a designated spot on the couch, and no one is allowed to sit in it, with no exceptions. Anya tried one time a year and a half ago and when Raven had entered the common room with the intent to study there, Anya had gotten a lap full of angry and tired college student. No one sat in her spot again).

“I don’t believe in all that soulmate crap,” she said nonchalantly. “If I’m going to be with someone for the rest of my life it’s going to be because I love them, not because the universe or God or some higher power tells me ‘this is who you’re meant to be with you cannot be happy with anyone else.’ I like having free will; I like dictating my own future. I think the idea of soulmates is antiquated and kind of stupid.”

Octavia breathed out a shaky laugh. “Well don’t let Clarke and Lexa hear you say that. They seem to be all aboard the soulmate train to Couplesville.”

“I know it’s absolutely disgusting.” She smiled at the girl who had taken the free spot on the couch next to her. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think I’d like that.”

**

When Octavia Blake sees Raven Reyes for the first time, she thinks she’s having an aneurism.

She was standing outside of a wooden door with a scratched ‘315’ plaque on the front of it. Laughter filtered through the walls and Octavia glanced at her friend. “You’re really into this girl, then, if you’re willing to go to her birthday party with all of her friends who are sure to judge you and claim you aren’t good enough for her.”

Clarke smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well that’s what I have you for now, isn’t it? You’re my distraction.”

“You’re gonna pimp me out to the most annoying one here, aren’t you?”

Clarke laughed for real this time. “Didn’t you say you wanted to meet Lexa? This is your chance.”

Octavia groaned. “But Clarke they’re _strangers_.”

“I thought you liked meeting new people.”

“Not when all of those people might judge my best friend – and me by extension. I’m not ready for that kind of stress.”

“There’s free booze inside.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Well why didn’t you lead with that?” She raised her hand and knocked sharply 3 times. “Come on Clarke it’s just a party don’t be all weird about it. Why didn’t you knock sooner?”

Clarke shook her head. “You are unbelievable.”

“You’ve known me 3 years, you can’t honestly say that any of my behavior is surprising anymore.”

“I suppose not.”

The door swung open. A tall, beautiful girl stood on the other side. When she met Clarke’s gaze her face practically exploded with brightness. “Hi Clarke.” They beamed at each other stupidly for a few long moments, and it was only after Octavia cleared her throat that she seemed to jolt out of her stupor. “And you must be Octavia,” the girl – Lexa, Octavia assumed, otherwise the lovesick looks would be highly inappropriate – said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Lexa stuck out her hand, like they were in a fucking business meeting, and Octavia almost laughed (but Clarke pinched her very sharply on the upper and arm so she refrained) and grasped Lexa’s firm hand with her own.

Octavia peered into the room, curiously trying to scope out who was there – and if she knew any of them from class or something similar, and to see if any of them were hot (if she could go home with someone tonight, after an evening of soulmates and free drinking, she’d be pretty pleased) – but it was fairly dark. Movement off to the left of the room drew Octavia’s gaze, and suddenly her vision exploded.

She reached down and gripped Clarke’s hand so hard she felt her friend wince, and Clarke hissed, “Dude what’s your problem?” but Octavia wasn’t listening.

She rubbed at her eyes, trying to understand what was… Octavia shook herself as a girl stepped forward, dark sunglasses on her face and wearing a jacket that was _something_ , something that wasn’t nothing and Octavia found she could not breathe.

“Hi, I’m Raven,” the girl – Raven – had her head turned in almost the right direction, but not quite. She was smiling, but she seemed focused on some point just beyond Clarke’s right ear, and so she was either already very drunk (but that couldn’t be it because she was standing surely and firmly and she didn’t wobble at all when she was walking) or – “You must be Clarke.”

Clarke smiled and shook Raven’s hand. She looked totally normal, totally happy to meet Lexa’s friend (roommate?) and Clarke didn’t seem to notice anything different at all about the hallway and the room that was suddenly so loud, and bright, and so… so not _nothing_ anymore. Octavia blinked harder and felt like collapsing. Was this what dying looked like? Bright lights, neurological firings in her brain causing her eyes to… causing her to tremble beneath the weight of —

“It’s really nice to meet you Raven. Lexa’s told me all about you,” Clarke said.

“Absolutely none of it is true.” Clarke laughed, throaty and deep, just like she spoke, and Octavia had to stare, stare, stare at this girl with the glasses and the jacket that was _something_ and she turned her gaze to Lexa, who must have noticed her astonishment, for she opened her mouth to say something (to explain? To tease? To admonish Octavia for clearly not understanding what was _happening_ ) – and Lexa’s eyes were… they were something. They were a different something than Raven’s jacket, a softer something, a clearer something, and —

Jesus Christ, these must be colors. These must be…

Octavia’s hands shook at her side. Lexa was still staring at her, brow quirked in confusion.

These must be colors. But then this girl – this girl must be —

 “I’ll keep in mind that Lexa is a dirty liar.” Clarke smiled at the girl and turned her adoring gaze on Lexa, still standing in the doorway. Lexa’s attention was pulled away – far far away – from Octavia and her internal, silent crisis. “Thank you for warning me,” Clarke said to Raven again, “I can get out of this relationship quickly now.”

Lexa glared at her friend (roommate?). Raven cocked her head and grinned in Clarke’s general direction. “I have no doubt you could do better.”

“Sorry about her, Raven’s had a little too much to drink tonight.” There was a menacing tone in Lexa’s voice but a smile on her face so Octavia knew she was kidding and Raven must have known too because she waved her off.

“Cool your jets Commander. Clarke knows I’m only kidding. Don’t you Clarke?” And it was then that Octavia realized 3 very important facts about this girl.

The first was that this girl was her soulmate, she _had_ to be, because suddenly Octavia could see things, maybe color things (but certainly different things from the things she saw before) and she knew that it was because of this beautiful girl in front of her and all she could think about was how bright everything was, how the lights that were flashing inside of Lexa’s apartment weren’t all the same as she thought when she first glanced in, but so many different shades of _things_ and Octavia didn’t have a name for any of them and she found that she absolutely _hated_ not knowing. She had no idea… her entire world had changed in the matter of a few moments and now she had to learn what all of these things were, she had to… she had to talk to this girl.

This girl who had made her see the world for the first time.

The second thing she realized was that Raven had absolutely no idea that there was another person standing in front of her and Lexa at their door.

And the third thing was the reason for the second thing: this girl could not see. She was blind. And a shiver went down Octavia’s spine because when you meet your soulmate you’re supposed to be connected to them, to immediately know that they are this incredibly important person and you’re supposed to be able to _feel_ it and _know_ and… and Octavia was standing in the hallway of a strange building in front of strange people and she was with her best friend but she had never felt more alone in her entire life because right at that moment her soulmate didn’t know she _existed_.

She was shaken from her thoughts by Raven’s voice. “Is there someone else here?” she asked, and Octavia straightened up and cleared her throat.

“Oh!” Clarke shifted to the side, putting more space between the two of them. “Sorry, yeah, this is my roommate, Octavia. I made her come with me. I hope that’s okay?” Clarke directed the last question at Lexa, who only smiled and nodded her consent.

“Hi Octavia. Good to meet you. Welcome to our humble abode.” Raven stood in front of her with a wide grin on her face and Octavia felt something inside of her melt because, Jesus Christ, this girl was fucking beautiful, even with sunglasses on her face and her hair pulled up, she was… Jesus.

She slipped her hand into Raven’s and the noise of the world drowned for a minute, and she was drowning in Raven and her warmth and _colors_ , for the first time in her life there were _colors_. “Nice to meet you too,” she managed, and she flushed a little, because her voice was softer than she was used to and she was feeling timid and her stomach was churning and she wanted to say something else, to tell _someone_ that — 

Raven smiled and stepped to the side. “Strippers get here in 30,” and then Lexa was dragging Clarke into the room and Octavia still found herself standing in the open doorway, gazing about at everything around her and _wondering_. She wanted to ask… she could ask Clarke what all the colors meant, right? She could —

But then what would Clarke think? She would ask, of course she would, and then what would Octavia do? How could she explain to her roommate and her roommate’s new girlfriend that the reason she was acting so weird and so dazed was because —

“You’re not a vampire, are you?” Octavia started. Raven was standing in the doorway, leaning against the edge of the frame, and fucking _smirking_ at her. “I don’t need to invite you in?”

Octavia blushed and stepped into the apartment.

She knew in that moment (though perhaps not quite as fully as she should have known) that her life was never going to be the same.

**

She only managed to talk to Raven for about twenty minutes before she stood on shaky feet and excused herself to the bathroom. Raven smiled at her, kindly, and Octavia felt her stomach tumble and roll because she was funny and beautiful and kind and… fuck.

Fuck.

She slipped into the bathroom, past a drunk woman with light hair and a jaw the struck her as so _Lexa_ she almost did a double-take. But it wasn’t Lexa, because Lexa was in the kitchen with Clarke, and Octavia knew that Clarke’s hair was light and Lexa’s was dark but it was… it was _more_ than that and she felt her head aching and her vision spinning and she had to get inside this bathroom.

She shut the door behind her. “Fuck,” she whispered, staring into the mirror, shocked to see the stranger looking back at her.

It was her. She knew it was her. She blinked and the mirror blinked and she raised a hand and touched her lips and the mirror did the same and she _knew_ it was her but —

“Fuck.”

She couldn’t even recognize herself. She couldn’t even…

She pulled her phone out with trembling fingers (it took her 3 tries to unlock it properly) before she paused, her thumb hovering over the phone icon. Should she call… but who would she call? Her mother? Bellamy? _Clarke_?

She shook herself. Now was not the time. She needed to… she needed to figure out for herself just what the fuck was happening to her before she even _considered_ telling anyone else.

She opened Safari instead.

_How do I know I’ve met my soulmate?_ She typed, but quickly erased it without hitting ‘enter.’

_What do colors look like?_ She typed next, and it was significantly more ridiculous of a search than her first one, and she flushed when she sent the request through but she was so thankful she did.

The first link was titled:

_Color Images Next to Black and White Images_

And she clicked it. An article (she skipped the introduction) was followed by twelve pictures, side by side; one the way the world _used to be_ and one the way the world now _was_ , and Octavia had to sit down on the edge of the bathtub because her knees were suddenly very weak and she was feeling a little sick. But also…

It felt like coming alive. She hadn’t even known what she was seeing before, hadn’t even _considered_ that there was more to the world than what she had been able to see. She’d heard the stories, _of course_ she had, but how do you explain what a color is to someone who has never been able to see them?

She only made it to the third picture before she felt her eyes welling with tears and she had to close out the window.

She could remember (of course she could remember it had only been _30 minutes_ ) everything about the way her life had once been. She knew what her brother looked like and what shade her bedroom wall was and she knew that Clarke’s hair was lighter than her hair and she understood shadows and light and dark and gradients and she understood all of that but… But.

 But it occurred to her that she didn’t know _anything_ , not really. _How could she?_

She felt the sudden urge to call her brother, to see his picture, to study his face and memorize the way he looked because she _knew_ what Bellamy looked like but she _didn’t_ , did she? Not really. She didn’t even know what _she_ looked like.

She bought the first app she came to that had anything to do with colors ( _Learning Colors for Beginners!_ was the unfortunately cheery title and she grimaced but spent the $2.99 anyways).

When she opened it, the first thing that appeared on the screen was a block of… well, color, she supposed. She blinked at it. It looked familiar, and it was because – she suddenly realized in a gut-wrenching moment of extreme epiphany – that was the way Raven’s jacket looked. She had been staring at it for the better part of half an hour.

She glanced at the caption, and breathed, “ _Red_ ,” and slumped to the floor.

Red. It was red. She knew her first color, and it was _red_.

(And she knew that it wasn’t _right_ , instinctively, but for the next few months every time she thought of ‘Raven Reyes’ she thought of _red_ and every time she saw red she thought of Raven Reyes, and the two were irrevocably linked in her mind – maybe forever. And she knew that it wasn’t _right_ , instinctively, but she didn’t really mind that at all.)

A loud knock on the door. Octavia jumped, locked her phone with a sharp (loud) ‘ _click’_ and stood, shoving the device back in her pocket.

“Ye-yeah?” Her voice wavered on the response and she shook herself hard.

“O?” Thank God, it was Clarke. “Hey Raven said you disappeared in there like… ten minutes ago are you okay? Are you sick?”

She pulled the door open and yanked Clarke inside.

She stumbled on her way in, all hazy eyes and hazy feet and wide smiles, and fell back against the door. It closed heavily and Clarke blinked her bleary eyes and squinted at Octavia against the harsh light of the room.

Octavia opened her mouth to say something, when Clarke cut her off with a smile and a laugh. “You bring me in here to try and seduce me? Sorry to burst your bubble babe, but Lexa is like… _right_ outside.”

Octavia’s mouth snapped shut, before, quietly, “Oh Lexa’s – Lexa’s outside?”

Clarke nodded, smiling dumbly. “Yeah she was worried about you too.” Clarke bit her lip and her brow furrowed. “Are you sick? Did you drink that much?”

“Oh no I… no I didn’t really drink that much, just —”

“Because _I_ did,” Clarke took a wobbly step forwards and put both of her hands on Octavia’s shoulders, squeezing tightly, “I think that I am very drunk right now, but it’s sort of hard to tell.”

Her words died in her throat, replaced with sudden and abrupt concern. Octavia frowned. “Are you good, Clarke? Do you wanna leave?”

Clarke shook her head violently. “I do _not_ want to leave, no, no Lexa is here and she’ll keep me safe.”

Octavia bit her lip, unsure. “You don’t even really know her, Clarke, we should just…”

“No, you don’t get it O, I think I’m in love with her.”

Octavia laughed at the absurdity of such a statement. “Cool your jets, Princess, it’s only been a month.”

Clarke shook her head harder. “ _No_ , it’s… I don’t know Octavia I can’t explain it to you because I know you haven’t met…” Clarke trailed off and Octavia gulped, suddenly feeling guilty and insecure, “I just _know_ her, O. I know her like I haven’t ever known anyone before and she’s just… she’s so amazing and beautiful and she smells so _good_ like can you even believe it? Can you even believe how good she smells?”

Clarke slumped forwards then, and Octavia wasn’t weak by any stretch of the imagination but Clarke was 135 pounds of deadweight, and she fell onto Octavia ungracefully, and Octavia grunted and (barely) caught her and stumbled, just slightly, hip thudding into the cold metal sink.

“Okay I think you’ve had enough to drink.” She twisted so that she was supporting Clarke under her arm and they could walk side-by-side. “Let’s get you some bread and water.”

Clarke hummed in agreement and Octavia opened the door to be met, suddenly, with Lexa’s concerned grimace and worried eyes that were bright and shockingly clear and _something_ , something that wasn’t red but that wasn’t nothing and Octavia stopped abruptly.

Clarke careened forwards and Lexa caught her effortlessly. “Are you okay, Clarke?” Lexa asked, face serious, and Clarke just smiled and burrowed her face into Lexa’s neck (and Lexa flushed and glanced at Octavia – maybe for reaction or permission or maybe looking for judgment – but Octavia only smiled).

“Clarke’s never been the best at holding her liquor,” Octavia explained. “Feed her something and keep her from drinking any more tonight and she’ll sober up pretty quickly. Anymore and she’ll be in black-out territory.”

“I don’t want to keep her here if she is unwell,” Lexa glanced down at Clarke, leaning against her, before her concerned gaze was back to Octavia. “If you need to leave –”

Octavia shook her head. “It’s your party, and Clarke is fine, honestly. She just gets hit hard and fast but she’ll be okay soon. Trust me, if she was honestly sick or in trouble we’d be out of here so fast you wouldn’t even see the door closing behind us.”

Lexa smiled (not fully, not completely, not without worry, but definitely _relieved,_ at least in part) and said, “Thank you, Octavia.”

Octavia shrugged. “Yeah no problem. Happy birthday, by the way.”

Lexa nodded her thanks and led Clarke away, a gentle hand on her upper arm guiding the two of them through the living room and into the empty kitchen.

Octavia sighed and leaned against the wall adjacent to the bathroom, trying to slow her breathing down and yet still feeling remarkably off-kilter.

She blinked when a shadow fell across her face, blocking the low lighting from the main room from reaching her. She squinted up at the looming figure in front of her, shoulders tense, when he stepped to the side and she could finally make out his face.

He was smiling sheepishly at her, his skin dark but warm, comforting, the color of the wooden floor in the apartment, maybe, but not quite.

Her eyes met his with mild interest.

“Hi, I’m Lincoln.” He stuck his hand out and she shook it, curious but not threatened (also that was the third hand she had shaken tonight and she was starting to feel like a goddamn politician and she was not really enjoying it). He was large, and clearly very strong, and Octavia could see the smallest edge of a dark tattoo peeking out from under his collar, but nothing about him screamed ‘predator’ at her and so she didn’t immediately move away like she might usually have done. “You’re Octavia, right?” She nodded, and when he registered the confusion on her face he hastened, “Lexa told me that you’re Clarke’s roommate.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lincoln.” She said, smiling at him not unkindly, but she still didn’t really understand why he was here.

Her eyes glanced behind him, scanning the room for… for who? Clarke and Lexa? Raven?

“You don’t have to worry about your friend,” he offered, and her eyes shot back to his. He was still smiling. “Lexa is a good person; she wouldn’t dream of taking advantage. All she wants to do is help people. She’s going to start law school next year.”

Octavia smiled at him and said (trying to keep the edge out of her voice), “I’m relieved that you have so much faith in her but, no offense, I don’t know _you_ either, so forgive me if I don’t totally trust your endorsement.”

Lincoln smiled but raised his hands in concession. “Fine by me. But she really is a good person — all the way to her core. She’s got a good heart.”

Octavia eyed him more closely. “And you? Do _you_ have a good heart?”

“I like to think so,” he said quietly, and took a step forward into her personal space. He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, when Raven came into view right next to his left shoulder.

Octavia jumped to speak with her. “Hey Raven, where are you going?”

Raven turned and cocked her head. “Octavia?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s me and Lincoln.”

“Hello Raven,” Lincoln said, looking directly at her, body angled fully in her direction and smile on his face.

Raven smirked. “I was wondering why you disappeared on me, Octavia. Now that I know…”  Octavia felt the hot, flushed, panicky need to clarify, to tell Raven that no, this was not what she thought it was, but Raven continued before she could get a word in, laughing as she said, “carry on; I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” Octavia was quick to interject (and was it just her imagination or did Lincoln look a little… disappointed?). “Are you… going to bed?” Octavia glanced down the dark hallway, trying to discern what was back there, hidden from her view, but —

“Yeah I don’t actually like parties that much. You’re all lovely, but I’m getting a headache, so I’m turning in for the night.”

“Oh, okay cool.” Octavia half-muttered.

“Do you need anything, Raven?”

Raven’s smile was a little tight when she directed it in Lincoln’s direction. “Thanks, no, I’m okay. Just need some sleep.”

She went to move down the hall again when Octavia cleared her throat and reached out a hand (to stop Raven, to halt her movement, to ask, _Will I see you again_ or maybe, _Can I see you again_ or maybe, _So you know this whole soulmate business? Crazy but… I think I’m yours_ ). Her fingers wrapped themselves loosely around Raven’s upper arm.

The girl jumped visibly and flinched forcibly away from the contact. She slammed her shoulder into the wall with a loud ‘ _thunk’_ that had her careening and groaning in pain.

Octavia’s stomach sank. “Oh fuck, Raven I’m so sorry I didn’t —”

Raven waved her off and straightened her body, rubbing at the sore spot on her left scapula. “Don’t… it’s… it’s fine, Octavia, you didn’t know.”

“No but I am _really_ sorry —”

“You can stop apologizing; it isn’t important.” But it _seemed_ important, because Raven was wobbly on her feet and she braced a hand on the wall next to her as she made her way to her room and she was grimacing and wholly avoiding further conversation and Octavia’s heart sunk below her feet.

She had already fucked it up. She had known her soulmate less than an hour, and she had already fucked it up. God wasn’t that just fucking poetic? Exactly how her life _would_ play out.

“She’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Lincoln’s soft voice said from next to her, and Octavia turned her attention back to him. He explained, “Raven doesn’t like being touched without warning or her express permission.”

Octavia grimaced. “I should have known that.”

Lincoln shrugged. “You couldn’t have known; you’ve never known a blind person before.”

“But that seems so… I should have _known_ that. She’s going to _hate_ me.”

Lincoln smiled at her kindly. “If Raven hated every person who touched her without her permission she wouldn’t talk to _anybody_. Seriously, don’t worry about it so much. She’ll be just —”

Octavia shot him a look that shut him up instantly. “Shouldn’t _she_ be the one to tell me that I shouldn’t worry about it? Who are you to speak for her?”

Lincoln blinked and his smile dropped. He looked significantly less certain now, brow furrowed and nervously picking at the fingers of his right hand. It was almost comical, seeing someone so large and objectively imposing get intimidated by someone like _her_. “I’m… I’m sorry. I was just trying to —”

“I appreciate it, Lincoln, but I _definitely_ fucked up just now, and you telling me not to worry about it isn’t exactly going to make me feel better.”

“Octavia I just —”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look dude, it’s cool, or whatever. I’ll just…” She glanced behind her to the door through which Raven had disappeared. Some part of her – small but powerful – longed to go back there, to knock on her door and… and what? Check on her? Apologize again? What good could that possibly do?

A much larger part of herself was starting to feel dizzy from alcohol and colors and noise and worry and that part – vocal and getting louder – just longed to _go home and sleep_.

“I should find Clarke,” she said in explanation, trying to swiftly end her conversation with Lincoln now rather than later.

“Oh, okay, cool.” He seemed… disappointed? More disappointed than he probably should have been; they had only been talking for a few minutes and they hadn’t exactly had a fantastic first impression on each other. For the second time tonight he seemed inappropriately (or just confusingly) disappointed about… what? “Um… do you maybe… do you want to get coffee sometime, or something?” He asked her, small and hopeful smile tugging at one side of his mouth.

That was surprising. Octavia blinked for a few long seconds and glanced around uncomfortably. “Oh, I… um…” She stuttered before she fell silent, obviously and tactlessly evading the question. Lincoln’s shoulders slumped, and she hastened to say, “No you’re a really nice guy Lincoln, it’s just… I’m not really looking for a relationship, right now.”

His face was understanding – disappointed, but understanding. Maybe too understanding? There was an expression in his eyes that Octavia couldn’t identify – sadness, longing, resignation? (But why would he be feeling _any_ of those things? They had _just met_.) She blinked and it was gone, his face returned to that of the sheepish, good-natured, rejected man.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I get it. Well I hope to see you around sometime, maybe?”

She smiled at him and nodded, and truthfully believed what she was agreeing to. He seemed nice enough, and she probably _would_ see a lot more of him, given that he was (seemingly) pretty good friends with both Lexa and Raven.

And she _knew_ she would be seeing more of Lexa, given the way she and Clarke were currently sprinting their way into a serious and full-blown soulmate relationship.

And she _had_ to see more of Raven. She just had to.

But _why_ did she need to see more of Raven? Because Raven was her soulmate? The thought gave Octavia pause. She knew that she _should_ get to know Raven because they were soulmates and clearly… clearly that _meant_ something, didn’t it? That was… that was important; that couldn’t just be _ignored_. Raven was her _soulmate_ they should at least… they should talk and get to know each other.

But was that _why_ she wanted to see more of Raven? Was it just because they were soulmates, just because… just because Octavia looked at her and her entire world exploded into color and light and meaning in a way it never had before? Was that a good enough reason to want to get to know _anyone_? Could she… could she continue to see and talk to and be around Raven knowing this… knowing this huge and life-changing thing and just _not say anything about it_?

Did she want to get to know Raven because she _had_ to, or because she _wanted_ to? Was it because the universe told her that Raven was someone who was supposed to be in her life? Because some higher power – some deity maybe, or maybe just pure biology – decided that Raven was Octavia’s… _something_? Were they even _soulmates_? What if… what if it was a fluke? Those had happened before; it wasn’t like it was _unheard_ of. Platonic soulmates, someone whose soulmate was soulmates with someone else, someone who you had no romantic feelings for but who God or the universe or biology or some fucking supreme being decided that, just for kicks, would be “yours” for… forever? For never? Who made these rules?

Did she want to get to know Raven because God told her to, because the universe clicked, because the cones in her eyes started firing for the first time in 20 years and society had decided that that meant that _this person_ … that Raven was her _soulmate_?

Or did she want to get to know Raven because she was beautiful, because she was smart and funny and cracked jokes as easily as breathing, because she navigated her apartment without sight better than Octavia had thought _possible_ , because she believed in _love_ – standard, old-fashioned, _true_ love that didn’t require colors or destiny or vision?

Her head spun and she felt dizzy and sick and flushed and confused and angry and guilty.

Raven’s opinion on soulmates suddenly felt a whole lot more reasonable.

How was Octavia supposed to understand what she was feeling when everything outside of her control – God or the universe or her own stupid brain – was screaming at her, “This is the way you’re supposed to be feeling!” How was that fair? How was that right?

How was she going to figure this out?


	2. Chapter 2

“I want you to know, for the record, that this is horribly rude of you.”

Clarke smiled sympathetically but didn’t change her request. “I’m sorry, O. I mean… I mean you _could_ stay here and —”

Octavia gagged in mock-disgust. “Ugh, and have to listen to the two of you get down and dirty through the wall? No thanks.”

At least Clarke had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry. You know we haven’t gotten really any time together since Lexa’s birthday…”

“That was only a week ago you thirsty —”

“And it feels rude to ask Raven to leave their apartment,” Clarke cut her off.

Octavia frowned. Something about that didn’t sit right with her. “Why couldn’t you ask Raven to leave? Because she’s blind? Do you think she just hangs out in her apartment all day and doesn’t —?”

“No, Octavia. She has a midterm tomorrow.” Clarke shot her a strange look. “What’s with you? Why so defensive?”

Octavia grumbled and shifted around on the couch. “No reason,” she muttered, “just… don’t really see why you and Lexa need to have sex like _right now_.”

Clarke shrugged. “Look I’m just being considerate. Lexa’s coming over, we’re probably going to have sex, you can stay or not.”

Octavia bit her lip. “And why is Lexa’s apartment off limits?”

“Lexa told me Raven’s been studying non-stop for like three days. I’m not about to kick her out just so I can have sex with my girlfriend.”

“But you’ll kick _me_ out so you can have sex with your girlfriend?”

Clarke shrugged. “I love you?”

Octavia groaned, and snatched her wallet from the living room table. “Fine. But you owe me dinner.”

“Thanks babe, I really —”

Octavia held up a hand to silence her. “Please don’t thank me for leaving my own home so you can bang your girlfriend in solitude. It makes me feel dirty and used.”

Clarke laughed. “Do you want some coffee money?”

Octavia sighed and glanced down into her (unsurprisingly) empty wallet. “Yeah it’s the least you can do.”

Clarke handed her a ten. “I’ll text you when it’s all-clear?”

“If I find out you fucked around anywhere besides your bedroom I’m making you scrub the whole place with bleach.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re very dramatic?”

Octavia just glared.

**

“It’s like I’m fifteen again, Bellamy. Hanging out in Starbucks and doing my work…” Octavia shook her head and grumbled into the phone, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

Her brother laughed, his voice tinny but clear in her ear. “C’mon you should be happy for Clarke.”

Octavia took a short sip of her drink, scalding her tongue. She grimaced but took another sip anyways. “I _am_ happy for Clarke. Or at least, I was a month ago, when this whole young-puppy love thing was cute, and not sickeningly adorable. Now they’re —”

“Now they’re making things inconvenient for you so you’re pissed.”

“Well when you put it that way I sound like an asshole.”

He laughed. “You _are_ an asshole.”

“That’s very rude of you to say.” She paused for a moment and glanced around the shop. “I mean… it’s _true_ , but still rude.”

Bellamy continued to speak, words like unfiltered white noise in her ear (about school? That girl he was sleeping with? Their mom’s upcoming birthday? Octavia knew it was probably important but she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention).

Suddenly she shot upright in her chair, shoulders tense and drink sitting forgotten in front of her.

“Bellamy I have to call you back,” she muttered into the phone, hanging up before he could even respond. She stood quickly from her seat, nearly toppling the chair to the ground, but she couldn’t care, because a familiar jacket had slipped into her view ( _Red_ , her brain helpfully supplied).

“Raven, hey!” She called, weaving her way through tables of people to where the girl stood near the cash register, digging through a wallet (she struggled to name the color but finally settled on _blue_ ), sunglasses perched on her nose, cane leaning against her right side causally.

Raven turned towards the voice, head quirked to the side, ear pointed in Octavia’s direction. She had a slight but not unpleasant frown on her face – more like ‘confusion’ and less like ‘hostility’ which Octavia took to be a good thing.

“Hey… hi. It’s Octavia.”

Now Raven’s face split into a wide grin. “Octavia hey. How are you?”

“Good, I’m good.”

Raven nodded. “Hey do you mind helping me with this?” She held the wallet out towards the other girl. “I know I have a five in here somewhere.”

“Let me get it,” Octavia offered, digging through her pockets for the remainder of the money Clarke had given her (she’d buy Raven’s drink but there was no reason that she had to use her _own_ money when Clarke had given her a perfectly good ten-dollar bill earlier).

“No, no you really don’t have to —”

“No it’s okay. I want to.”

Raven smiled and slipped her wallet back into her jacket pocket. “Well then thank you.”

Octavia smiled back because she couldn’t help it, and handed a few crumpled bills to the cashier (a young guy with floppy hair whose nametag read “Monty” and who shot Octavia a knowing look that she very much did not appreciate).

“I have a table over by the window, if… if you want to sit for a bit?”

“Yeah… yeah I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Cool.” Octavia bit her lip to try and halt the fluttering in her stomach. She was being absolutely ridiculous, she _knew_ that, but… “Do you mind if I grab your drink for you?”

An expression crossed Raven’s face, one Octavia could not identify, and she suddenly worried that she had once again crossed some sort of invisible line of which she was not aware. She opened her mouth to take it back, to apologize, when Raven said, “No that’s–that’s totally cool. Thanks. Again.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” She grabbed the drink (some ridiculous part of her noticed and absolutely _adored_ the fact that Raven was drinking something iced in the middle of November) and ventured, less-assured, “Do you want to follow me or take my arm or…?”

Raven smiled. “I’ll take your arm, if that’s okay. Just lead me to the empty chair.”

Octavia held her arm out, bent at ninety degrees and close enough that Raven barely had to raise her hand before warm skin met soft fabric, and Octavia once again had to clamp down on the fluttering in her stomach ( _Jesus Christ it’s only her hand on your arm get a grip,_ her mind growled) as she slowly worked her way back through the fairly empty space, making sure to give every table and chair a wide berth.

“So what are you doing here today? Don’t you live on campus?” Raven asked as she slid into the seat opposite Octavia. She leaned her cane carefully against the window to her right (Octavia was stupidly grateful that she had picked a table near a wall so that Raven wouldn’t need to worry about losing track of her things, but that was _dumb_ because she didn’t even know Raven was going to be here so it shouldn’t matter where she had decided to sit).

“Yeah, but I felt like getting away for a bit. Change of scenery, you know.” Raven nodded and took a sip of her drink. Because she couldn’t speak, Octavia continued, “And Clarke kicked me out of our place, so I decided I might as well go for a walk.”

Raven scrunched up her nose in confusion (it was adorable). “Why did Clarke kick you out?”

“Oh she and Lexa…” but Octavia trailed off, because something hit her just then, something that very much did not make sense and very much did not make her happy. “Wait, but you’re… what are you doing…?” She gasped suddenly and pressed a hand to her chest in a dramatic show of offense. “Those lying bitches,” she hissed.

Raven laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“They totally kicked me out of the apartment so they could fuck in peace, and your apartment was completely empty! I feel cheated. I feel lied to.”

Raven laughed again. “I’m sorry you got banished. But, in defense of Clarke and Lexa, I didn’t tell them I was leaving at any point, so they didn’t know. Don’t be mad at them.” Octavia huffed and wrapped her hands tighter around her coffee. “I needed a break, but it was unplanned. I just hit like… hour six of non-stop studying and I was absolutely destroyed. Needed a little pick-me-up.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?”

Raven smiled, and asked, “How long ago did they commandeer your place?”

Octavia glanced down at her phone. “Like… thirty minutes, I think?”

“So it’ll probably still be a while?”

Octavia pulled a face. “Yeah I guess.” After a brief moment, she shuddered, and said, “Gross,” under her breath.

A tilt of Raven’s head. “Why don’t you come back to my place with me? I feel bad leaving you out here, abandoned and alone in a Starbucks like a fourteen-year-old girl who just got stood up.”

Octavia smiled. “While I do resent that comparison, I appreciate the offer.”

“So you’ll come?” Raven asked, hopeful lilt in her voice.

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

**

“So what are you studying, Raven?”

Raven turned her head, eyebrow raised in the direction of Octavia’s voice. “Sorry, what was that?”

Octavia fidgeted on the couch next to her. “Well I… I mean if Clarke and Lexa are going to sex-ile me from my own apartment to get freaky with each other, I just… thought we could maybe get to know each other? Seeing as our best friends are soulmates, you know?”

Raven smirked. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very awkward person?”

“On several occasions very frequently every day.” Octavia breathed out in a rush, and Raven laughed, which made Octavia beam. “But it’s not a crazy idea, right? Us being friends? Clarke and Lexa are going to be in each other’s lives for pretty much forever which means we have to start getting chummy if neither one of us wants to be the third wheel. I personally plan on being best-woman or maid of honor or whatever it is lesbians do at weddings, and if you’re in the wedding party too it would be pretty awkward if we hated each other.”

Raven smiled and said, “You know I don’t think I really mind being the third wheel. Three wheels are more stable than two.”

“But not as stable as four,” Octavia quipped.

Raven laughed. “True. Anything is better than two, though.” When Octavia didn’t say something right away, she explained, “I’ve never been a fan of bicycles.”

“Why… too boring?”

“I can’t ride them.” Octavia went deathly quiet, and Raven felt (inexplicably) anxious, like she needed to alleviate the tension and apologize, and hurried on, “I’m sorry; you have to tell me if I make you uncomfortable. The only person I really hang out with is Lexa, and she’s used to the whole, you know…” she gestured towards her face, “the whole not seeing thing.”

“No you didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

Raven was justifiably skeptical. “Octavia come on, you don’t have to lie to me. I get it, you aren’t used to this yet. It’s just… I’ve been this way my whole life and I forget sometimes that it’s weird for people when they first meet me. I’ve just… never had a problem talking about my blindness and mentioning it in casual conversation.” She grinned before continuing, “And if we’re going to be in each other’s lives from now on, you better not have a problem with it either.”

Octavia laughed and it sounded relieved, so Raven relaxed back into her seat in the deep, comfy couch cushion.

“And it’s law, for the record. What I’m studying.”

“You’re studying law?”

“Well… poly-sci, technically, but I eventually want to be a lawyer.”

“That’s really cool, Raven.” She sounded honest, which Raven didn’t really quite get (they had only met a week ago, _why_ should Octavia care what she wanted to do for a living?). “What made you want to be a lawyer?”

Raven felt herself blushing. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Why would I laugh at you?”

“Do you read comic books?”

“Umm…” Octavia trailed off, clearly trying to judge what the correct answer should be. She eventually went with honesty, which Raven appreciated. “No,” she sighed, though it sounded like she wanted to say the opposite. “I only really know about like… Spiderman and Batman… And the Avengers. I like those movies.”

“Well there’s… there’s this superhero, and his name is Daredevil – I mean his name is Matt Murdock but his alter ego is called Daredevil – and he’s a lawyer and I always thought, well if Matt Murdock can save the world through law and justice I can too.”

“Why would anyone laugh at you for that? That’s awesome Raven. You’re doing something admirable. I’m studying for an English degree, which …” she trailed off while Raven waited patiently for her to continue. “Oh sorry, I just… um I just made a gun and pretended to shoot myself in the head.” Raven laughed. “I forgot that you couldn’t… I just meant that like, I’m never gonna make any kind of money doing anything with an English degree.”

“But Clarke mentioned that you wanted to be a teacher?” She trailed the sentence up, turning it into a question (she couldn’t really remember _exactly_ what Clarke had said her roommate was studying, because at that point in time Clarke was just another floating voice interested in dating Lexa and Raven hadn’t paid much attention to her).

“Yeah I… I really like kids. I think I’d like to teach them, someday. Mold young minds and all that.”

Raven smiled at her. “See, you’re doing something admirable too.”

“Well we all have to change the world, don’t we?”

“That we do.”

**

When Octavia returned to her apartment later that day (after the all-clear text from Clarke) she immediately Googled ‘Matt Murdock Daredevil,’ and when she realized the character was blind, she burst into tears, though when Clarke ran into her room seconds later to see if she was okay, Octavia could not explain why she was crying.

**

“Octavia what are you doing?” Clarke’s voice behind her startled her so much that she jumped, smashing her knee against the bottom of their table before she managed to slam her computer shut.

She blushed deeply while she rubbed at her smarting knee. “I’m not doing anything. Why are you reading over my shoulder?”

Clarke bent over her and opened the computer, the previous screen still treacherously visible from when Octavia had been scrolling. She blushed harder.

“Are you… are you reading about _blindness_?”

“Get off my back, Clarke. It’s none of your business.” She shut the computer again, standing and grabbing her things before she stalked out of the kitchen towards her bedroom.

“Dude, no wait, I’m sorry.” Clarke trailed after her and reached an arm out, grabbing Octavia by the wrist and yanking her around. “Why are you reading about blindness?”

Octavia flushed and averted her eyes. “No reason.”

“You’re totally doing it because of Raven.”

“Clarke, seriously, I love you, but stay out of my business.”

“Oh my God you _like_ her!” Octavia yanked her arm away and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door shut in Clarke’s face. Clarke opened it and leapt into the room seconds later. “You totally have a thing for her and you’re reading up about how to interact with her! Octavia that’s so sweet!”

“I will hit you.” She slumped down onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow ( _yellow_ , her brain supplied – she had been practicing with that stupid app). “Clarke please don’t make a big deal out of this. I want to be her friend, and I don’t want to act like an asshole around her and do something offensive. So just back off.”

“Woah, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.” Clarke sat down on the bed next to her. “Look it’s okay if you like her. I’ve never seen you take anything this seriously before.”

Octavia peeked just enough of her head out from its hiding place to glare at her friend. “I don’t know if I _like_ her, okay? I’m just… she’s really cool and I don’t want to fuck it up by doing something totally inappropriate.”

“And I respect that, yeah? I’m sorry.” Clarke laid a hand on her upper arm. “So tell me what you’ve learned.”

Octavia sat up, eyebrow quirked. “Why do you care?”

“Lexa’s my girlfriend and Raven is her _best friend_. Of course I care. I don’t want to do something totally inappropriate either. So tell me what you’ve learned; teach me how to not be an asshole.”

“I couldn’t teach you that if you gave me a million dollars and fifty years.”

Clarke punched her. “Don’t be a dick. Come on, I’m serious, tell me what the internet says about blindness.”

Octavia fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment, before sighing and opening her computer again. She ran a hand through her hair. “Well, first of all, it’s pretty rare that Raven is completely blind, because only 18 percent of people who are visually impaired are classified as being ‘totally blind;’ most of them can at least distinguish between light and dark…”

**

There was a knocking at their apartment door. Raven sat up straighter on the couch, putting her book down, head tilted to the side. Lexa was out – with Clarke, no doubt – and few people ever came over to talk to _her_ without letting her know first (besides her mom, but Raven had long since come to expect those visits).

“Hey Raven, it’s Octavia. Are you in there?”

Raven smiled and stood from the couch, making her way surely through the uncluttered apartment.

She fumbled with the latch on the door for a moment before pulling it open, a large smile on her face. “Hey. Did I know you were coming over?” It was quiet for a moment. “Octavia?”

“Oh God, no, sorry, I just umm… I just shook my head. Sorry I’m still —”

“Hey don’t worry about it. It takes a little while for people to adjust to communicating without nonverbal patterns. Just stop apologizing.” She pulled the door open wider. “Wanna come in? Did you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to like… get some food or something?”

Raven laughed and gestured for Octavia to follow her inside. “I don’t go out a whole lot.”

“Oh right, sure, sorry. I can leave you alo—”

“But as long as you have someplace in mind and we don’t take the subway I’ll totally come.” She felt, more than heard, Octavia’s relief, and it set something fluttering pleasantly in her chest.

Raven walked deeper into the apartment and towards her bedroom, where her wallet, sunglasses, and cane resided. “I heard you stop walking!” She called behind her. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable; just go sit wherever you want. Or come in here, so I don’t have to yell.”

Footsteps approached and Octavia’s voice said from the general direction of her door, “Can I ask… why no subway?”

“I don’t like being underground. Plus, it’s loud and there are a lot of people that like to stand super close to you and they don’t seem to mind at all if they touch you, even if you’re complete strangers.” She shrugged, “It just makes me uncomfortable.” She expected Octavia to mutter something, or shift uncomfortably as she was prone to do when the topic of Raven’s lack-of-eyesight was brought up, but this time she was pleasantly surprised.

“Well then you’re in luck, because there’s a great noodle place near here.”

Raven smiled and slipped the sunglasses onto her face, grabbing her cane from its place next to the door. She held her arm out, elbow crooked in invitation. Octavia’s warm hand slipped in, holding her firmly but not commandingly. “Lead the way.”

“You totally won’t be disappointed; the food is great.”

Several minutes and a short walk later, during a lull in their pleasant conversation, Octavia offered, “Your eyes are really beautiful, by the way. I hadn’t seen them before. But they’re really beautiful, and I wanted you to know.”

Raven smiled. “Thank you. You have a lovely voice. And, also, a little stranger of a compliment, but you smell amazing, like all the time.”

Octavia laughed and squeezed Raven’s arm in a short pulse. “I’m glad you approve of my cleanliness. My shower and I are quite familiar with each other.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Octavia laughed. “Hey we’re here. There are four steps going up and then a little lip that you have to clear before you get inside. Let me get the door for you.”

Raven felt warmth bloom inside her stomach. She felt heat rise to her cheeks unexpectedly – but it was nice to be thought of. It was nice that Octavia told her how to get inside the building without Raven having to ask. It was nice that she walked next to her, arm comforting and present but not controlling or forceful or deliberately _leading_ Raven, dragging her along like some toddler who couldn’t behave in public. It was nice being out with someone who wasn’t Lexa. It was nice having someone else who she could talk to, someone who sought out her presence and her opinions, someone who came to their apartment to see _her_ , not Lexa, not her _and_ Lexa.

It was just… nice.

**

“Hey this was a lot of fun,” Raven said once they were stopped outside of her and Lexa’s apartment door, “thanks for coming over, you really saved me from an evening of sitting alone on my couch.”

“God, that sounds sad. Please promise me that you’ll never let it get to that again, okay? I’m just a phone call away.”

Raven laughed and nodded. “Okay, I promise.” She slid her key into the door and then paused a moment. “Do you want to come in and make some coffee? I promise I’ll brew it way too strong and you’ll be up for the next four hours.”

When Octavia answered, Raven could hear the smile in her voice, “Sounds perfect. Lead the way.” Raven pushed the door open and entered the dark apartment, not bothering with the lights. “Do you mind if I turn the lights on?” Octavia asked, still standing fairly close to the front door.

“Sorry, yeah go for it!” Raven called over her shoulder as she made her way into her bedroom, depositing cane and wallet and sunglasses one after the other in a perfect row on the table next to her door, where she would be able to find them later. “I don’t usually bother with them. Make yourself at home.”

Raven liked the kitchen (and she liked that Lexa _didn’t_ like the kitchen, because that meant it was usually always clean and her things were rarely ever used or missing or dirty if she didn’t do the using or dirtying herself). She filled the coffee pot with water under the tap – tip of her finger just over the lip so she could feel when it was full – pulled out the grounds (made sure there were enough for two cups) and got to work.

She picked the mugs by touch. Her favorite mug (Lexa told her it was blue, back when she was in her early ‘soulmate’ stage and was describing the color of anything and everything to an only mildly-interested Raven) was smooth, with a handle that was formed for the human hand, and it had a small chip, right in the rim. Raven liked that it had the chip, liked that the handle wasn’t perfectly smooth; it made the cup _more_ , for her. She liked when things were imperfect, when they were textured, when they weren’t perfectly smooth and conventionally aesthetically pleasing. She didn’t enjoy paintings (mostly because people got absolutely _furious_ when she touched them and also because there were only so many ways someone could describe different brushstrokes before she had to stop even feigning interest) but she loved sculptures; she didn’t like hard wood floors but she loved soft carpets; pictures were useless to her but mementos and keepsakes were treasured.

So she liked this mug, mostly because it was easiest to distinguish from the others. Apart from two abnormally large cups, the others were all uniform in size and texture, so she had to pick randomly for Octavia.

She measured the coffee by counting. She couldn’t use her usual finger technique for fear of being burned but she had long ago (freshman year, probably) perfected her pouring technique. She knew how to hold her hand and how to tip and for how long to pour to get exactly the volume necessary so as not to spill over the lip when she walked.

_One, two, three, fo–_ she thought in her head.

She heard the buzz of the TV turning on, and bit her lip as the low hum of voices reached her ears.

“Do you want any cream, Octavia?” She called out.

The sound of stumbled movement, and then, from the entrance of the kitchen, breathless, “No, no don’t worry about it. I can drink it black.”

Raven pulled a face, smile tugging at her lips, and shook her head. “You can have cream, you know. We have some in the fridge. You’ll just have to pour it yourself. I don’t know how much you like.”

“Thanks. Yeah I will, then.”

Footsteps approached the refrigerator; the sound of the door opening; the rush of cold air that hit the back of her neck (a not uncomfortable shiver); and then warmer air displacement as Octavia drew up next to her. Raven gestured at the correct mug and pulled her own into her hands. She blew on the top and took a sip.

“Did you leave the TV on?”

“Yeah. Yes, sorry, I didn’t know what to —”

“Okay.” Raven put her cup down and turned towards the direction of Octavia’s voice. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have to stop apologizing. You have to stop walking around my apartment on eggshells. You have to _stop_ thinking that you can’t do things for yourself or do what you want. You can watch TV; you can have cream in your coffee, _I don’t care_. What I care about is you acting like you have to go out of your way to make sure that every little thing you do is okay with me. You’re allowed to ask for me to do things, Octavia; I’m 22, and I may be blind but I’m not incapable. And you were being really awesome when we were outside together, but as soon as we step inside here it’s like you’re a whole different person.”

Even breathing from in front of her. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you’re incapable. I’m —”

“If you’re about to apologize again I _will_ smack you.”

“I’m just…” a shuddering exhale, “I don’t really know what to do with myself around you. You make me really nervous.”

“Because I’m blind?”

“ _No_. No because… because you’re really pretty and smart and funny and you’re like… _really_ super cool and I literally don’t know what to do. I want you to like me, because you’re _awesome_ , and…” It felt like Octavia was going to say something more, but she didn’t for a long time, and Raven figured that whatever thought was on the tip of her tongue she had swallowed.

She smiled then, ever so slightly, uncrossing her arms and relaxing against the countertop. “What makes you think I wouldn’t like you?” She teased.

“I’m really awkward and I act uncomfortable around you and I keep saying and doing the wrong things. I must be so annoying I know _I_ wouldn’t want to hang out with me.”

Raven smiled and lifted her cup, hiding her mouth by taking a long sip. “Well I like you, anyways. Awkward uncomfortableness and all.”

“You really shouldn’t. I’m the worst.”

Raven laughed but didn’t respond. Instead she moved towards the living room. She placed her mug on the coffee table and threw herself onto the couch, leaning back fully and sinking into the familiar texture of the cloth coverings. “Did you want to watch TV?” She asked. There was still a low hum of voices emanating from where she knew the TV sat in their room, though it was so quiet (Octavia must have turned the volume all the way down to just above ‘mute’) she couldn’t make out what program was on.

Octavia sat down next to her and asked, clearly surprised and a little uncertain, “Do _you_ want to?”

Raven shrugged. “Sure. But I like Aaron Sorkin stuff, if we’re not watching described shows. He’s got a lot of dialogue in his stuff and it makes it easier for me to follow.”

Octavia breathed easier and laughed. “Funny you should say that because I’m currently in the middle of season 2 of _The West Wing_ …”

“No kidding.”

“Mind if we pick up where I left off?”

“Go for it, I’ve watched it like… five times all the way through.”

“How do you have time to do your school work?”

Raven laughed. “I’m efficient; don’t judge me.” The title music started playing and she picked up her mug, kicked up her feet, and, when Octavia’s arm brushed against hers ever so lightly, she smiled, and didn’t pull away.

**

Octavia slid into the empty seat across from Clarke in the noiseless library. Clarke barely glanced up from her work, scribbling furiously on a diagram of what looked like a human leg. She was muttering under her breath, and it was only when Octavia cleared her throat that she said, head still bent and eyes still focused on her work, “Hey O, what’s up?”

“I like Raven.”

“Yeah I know; you’ve been out with her like once a week for the past month.” She paused and glance up, small smirk on her lips. “Honestly I’d be worried if you _didn’t_ like her.”

“No Clarke, I’m not… we aren’t _dating_. She doesn’t _know_ I like her. I just… I like her a _lot_.”

This got Clarke to shut her book.  “You aren’t _dating_? But… but you’ve been going out, like… _all_ the time.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, as friends, like when you and Lexa decide to be gross or when I think that I’m not being too forward and it’s acceptable to take a friend out to a nice casual meal.”

Clarke blinked at her. “You’re being crazy. Just ask her out already.”

“I don’t even know if she likes girls!”

“She doesn’t have to like _girls_ , O, she just has to like you!” Someone ‘ _shushed’_ them loudly from a few tables away, and Octavia grimaced and raised her hand in acknowledgement. The girl – hair pulled up and back in one long braid – huffed and glared before turning back to her books.

Octavia slumped forward in her chair and said in a low voice, “I’m just worried, I don’t know. I haven’t exactly had the best dating history. And she’s like… _really_ cool, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled. “Yeah I know.”

“I’m just gonna like… get some kind of confirmation that she enjoys spending time with me before I risk asking her out.”

“Whatever you say Octavia, but she’s stuck around so far, so you’ve gotta be doing _something_ right.”

Octavia blushed. “She doesn’t have that many friends, she told me. It’s mostly just her and Lexa and some of _Lexa’s_ friends. And you’ve been monopolizing Lexa like crazy recently, so…”

“Octavia,” Clarke reached across the table and put a hand on her friend’s, cutting her off. “Stop second guessing yourself. I’m _sure_ she likes you. Take a chance; ask her on a date.”

Octavia shook her head rapidly. “No, no I _really_ like her. I’d rather know that I can stay her friend than think that I might maybe not get to date her. It’s cool, our friendship is cool, I like it, I like _her_ , I’m just gonna —”

“You’re just going to continue to go out with her but not go _out_ with her?”

Octavia sniffed. “Yes I am. And you will not speak of this to Raven or Lexa or _anyone_ , Clarke, got it?”

Clarke raised a hand. “Scout’s honor. My lips are sealed.”

“Good.”

**

“You like Raven?” Lexa slipped into the open space next to Octavia on her couch.

She whipped around and glared at her roommate. “In my own _home_ , Clarke, really?”

Clarke grimaced as she bent to lace up her shoes. “I’m sorry O she got it out of me.”

“How did she–?” Octavia turned green. “Nope, never mind, if this is gonna be a sex thing I do not want to know.”

“So tell me what’s up with you and my friend,” Lexa interjected.

Octavia shot Lexa a look. “Nothing is ‘up’ with us. I like her, she’s cool, we’re friends… at least I _think_ we’re friends.”

“Do you intend to ask her out?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re both busybodies who need hobbies.”

“For your information _school_ is my hobby,” Lexa said with a sniff, chin lifted in defiance.

“Then don’t you have some studying to do?” Octavia shot back with an accompanying glare.

Lexa raised her hands and backed off. “Alright alright no worries, we won’t talk about it anymore.”

“Thank you.” She shifted her attention back to her open textbook.

“Hey Lexa and I are going to get some food, do you wanna come?” Clarke offered as she slipped her coat over her shoulders.

“I’m fine here. _Some_ of us care about our grades and don’t have time to go gallivanting off with our significant others at all hours of the evening… on a _school night_ too, Griffin.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Hey Octavia, do you need some help telling Raven how you feel? Because I could totally —” She ducked as a pillow came flying towards her head. “Run for it Lexa!”

The two dashed out of the apartment giggling like children and Octavia huffed before turning back to her books.

She only made it 15 minutes before she caved and dialed the number that always seemed to be under her fingertips.

_“Hey O, how are you doing?”_

Octavia smiled at Raven’s voice. “Clarke and Lexa are the worst and if they say anything to you I want you to know that it isn’t true.”

The girl on the other end laughed. _“They’re teasing you again?”_

Octavia groaned, “It totally isn’t fair, they’re always going to take each other’s side, they’re _soulmates_.” She pulled a face at the word. “And honestly they’re the world’s most disgusting couple, you should see how they always are, hanging off of each other and kissing and laughing.”

There was a smile in Raven’s voice when she said, _“Oh come on, it’s cute. You should be happy they’re happy. You know what the statistics are for finding your soulmate.”_

Octavia felt an uncomfortable lurch in her stomach at the direction their conversation was heading. Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed thickly. “I know,” she said quietly, “under 4% of the population actually ends up with their soulmate, and the rest…” she trailed off.

_“The rest of us have to fall in love the old-fashioned way,”_ Raven said, but her voice was light, for she lacked the knowledge that had recently been weighing so heavily on Octavia’s mind.

Raven _had_ found her soulmate. She just didn’t know it.

Yet.

Probably.

“You don’t need someone to hang out and study with, do you?” She quickly changed the subject, “Because I suddenly find myself in an empty apartment with practically nothing to do.”

_“I certainly wouldn’t turn you away if you showed up on my doorstep.”_

Octavia grinned, though she knew Raven could have no idea how thrilling the offer truly was for her. “You feel like Chinese tonight?”

_“Surprise me.”_

**

“You feel tense, Octavia.” Raven said, her fingers running rapidly over her textbook.

Octavia spluttered, coughed, and murmured, “What? Tense? Who, me? No I…” and when Raven paused and arched an eyebrow – as if to say, ‘ _Really bitch_?’ – she sighed in defeat (presumably because she knew it was both pointless and disingenuous to lie to Raven about things like body language). “How did you know?”

“You can’t stop bouncing your leg, and from the sound of things you’ve been chewing on that pen for so long I’m surprised it hasn’t snapped in your mouth.” Octavia let out a short bark of laughter, and Raven smiled, angling her body slightly towards her on the couch. “So tell me what’s up. Why are you so tense?”

“I… well I’m embarrassed. And if you can’t tell, I’m blushing pretty hard right now because I really want to ask you some questions but I don’t want to say the wrong thing or have you get mad at me or something.”

“Octavia please, I’m not _petty_. Tell me what’s bothering you. Ask me your questions. I’m an open book.” She gestured to the heavy book in her lap for reference and Octavia laughed again, her leg finally holding still.

“Well I… I’ve been reading those comics,” when Raven didn’t seem to get her reference, Octavia continued quickly, “you know, the ones you told me about? Daredevil?”

Raven looked startled. “You remembered?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” When Raven didn’t answer, Octavia shook herself and continued. “Well anyways I’ve been reading them and I was just wondering like… you don’t see like that, do you? That whole ‘world on fire’ thing, that was just… comic book stuff right?”

Raven smiled. “Yeah, those are just stories. I don’t see anything O, you know that.”

“Yeah. Yeah right, of course.” It was silent for several long moments.

“Was that all?”

“And do you have like super-hearing and super-smell and that kind of stuff?” She asked in a rushed flurry of words.

Raven shook her head, smiling bemusedly. “That kind of stuff is just a myth. Blind people don’t have ‘heightened senses’ or anything like that because they can’t see, we just… we just learn to pay more attention to the things happening around us. When you can’t rely on your sight you learn to rely on other things. Like, sure, I can’t see your face to see if you’re uncomfortable or embarrassed or turned on or something, but–” Octavia shifted next to her and Raven smiled, pointing excitedly, “but see! Just like that!”

“What? Just like what?”

“I know that what I just said made you uncomfortable. You probably blushed or grimaced or something, I don’t know, but I could feel you shift on the couch, like you were repositioning yourself so that you didn’t have to face me, and your breathing got faster too, so I know that I said something that made you flustered and not want to look directly at me.” She grinned proudly. “So no, I don’t have super-hearing or super-smell or anything like that, I just… I just notice that stuff more than you do because I _have_ to. It’s how I learned to _be_.” She shrugged and went back to her reading. “It’s just like brail, or learning to walk around my apartment without my cane; learning stuff and noticing stuff is different for me, but that doesn’t mean it’s any _harder_. I’m not socially inept because I can’t see expressions on people’s faces, I just had to learn other physical cues.” She quirked her head in the way that indicated she was focusing on the world around her. “Like right now,” she turned more towards Octavia, “you’re leaning towards me and your breathing is shallow, so you’re excited about something.”

“I’m just…” Octavia was frozen, unmoving for several long seconds (and Raven thought that… maybe she was going to…) but then a tremor went through Octavia’s body – Raven felt it in the shake of the couch – and she leaned away and cleared her throat abruptly, and Raven fought the small frown that was working its way onto her face. She didn’t mean to make Octavia pull away; in fact, that’s sort of the opposite of what she – “I’m just learning a lot, right now, and I really appreciate that. I know it must be frustrating to have to teach people all about you, day in and day out, because we don’t know and we don’t understand and no one’s ever —”

Raven reached a hand out towards where (she was pretty sure) Octavia’s leg was, and she was pleased when her fingers encountered a denim-clad thigh. “Please don’t apologize for asking questions. Weirdly, I kind of love talking to you about this.”

“What? Why is that?”

Raven shrugged. “Because no one ever asks me.”

“Can you explain what you mean?”

Raven marked the page in her book and slowly closed it, sliding it onto the coffee table so she could focus her whole attention on Octavia and her steady breathing next to her.

She took a deep breath and folded her legs beneath her lap, perching on her warm calves and curling her body in towards itself. She rested her chin against her bent knee, and started, a little shakily, “I’ve told you this before, but… I was born blind. From the moment I emerged from my mom, all pink and slimy and screaming, just…” she waved a hand in front of her sightless eyes, “nada.” She wasn’t wearing her sunglasses right now. She had been getting more and more used to going without them when in Octavia’s presence. Usually she liked to keep them on as a sort of buffer – she found people preferred when they could pretend she was looking directly at them, and sunglasses helped with that illusion. Obviously she didn’t _need_ them, but she found out at a very young age that a lot of the time, living with her blindness was less about _her_ and more about _other people_.

“The thing is, like… okay so I was born blind, but… that’s just the thing, I was _born blind_. I never knew what it was like to see. It was totally normal for me. Until I was old enough to begin to understand how other people do things, my blindness was just the way my world was, and it wasn’t different or weird or hard. And because of that, it was a totally normal thing. I was just happy and normal and blind but not knowing it. Because when you’re a little kid, every thing about you is just the _way you are_ , and you don’t start feeling bad about things – in my case, being blind – until other people start to _teach_ you to feel bad about them. That’s the way it was for me.

“When I was a kid, I learned what worked for me. My parents were great about it, too, really supportive. They read all the books, they consulted all the specialists, and that was _great_ , it really helped my learning, but…” she shrugged, “I don’t know sometimes I think it wasn’t totally the right thing, what they did, because they didn’t explain to me, not really, what was wrong.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I really understand.”

Raven bit her lip and shifted a little, trying to form the correct thought. “So, like… Okay I learned what worked for me when I was growing up, you know? If an object was placed in front of me I picked it up and held it in my hand to figure out what it was. If I dropped something I ran my hand across the floor until I found it. So I could find things, and ‘see’ things, in a way, but I didn’t know what blindness is and isn’t. Does that make sense?”

“Umm… sort of?”

Raven ran a hand roughly through her hair. “Boy this is hard to explain. Um… so I guess what I’m saying is nobody told me that I _could_ see, that–that _other people_ could see, until I was pretty old. Nobody told me that it was a possibility. I didn’t know that it was _possible_ for people to see until I was… maybe five or six. It’s like… okay so you know how you can’t choose your sexuality?”

“Yeah,” Octavia whispered, voice quiet and enraptured, and so Raven continued.

“Okay so it’s sort of like that. When you’re a little kid… say you’re a little boy, okay? And you start to like one of classmates. You’re maybe eight or nine at the time – a totally normal age to get your first crush, by anyone’s standards – but you’re here, this little eight or nine-year-old boy, and you’re liking _another boy_. But you don’t _know_ that that’s what you’re feeling. Not because anyone explicitly said to you, ‘ _You are a boy you are only allowed to like girls_ ,’ but because all of your friends are talking about liking girls, and no one ever sat you down and said, ‘ _Hey, you know this thing you’re feeling? Yeah, that’s totally cool; sometimes boys like boys and sometimes girls like girls_.’ You know that you’re feeling _something_ but you don’t know what it is because no one ever told you that what you’re feeling is even an option.” She paused for a moment, with a soft and hesitant smile. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah I…” Octavia’s voice came out hoarse and throaty, so she coughed once and said, stronger, “I get that.”

Raven nodded. “So like… when I went to school for the first time, I remember that the teacher bent down and guided my hand when we were learning to print. Now, I went to a school for visually impaired kids, so it wasn’t like this was totally _unusual_ for her to do, but there are a lot of different ways to be visually impaired, and I was… well I was basically the blindest of all the blind kids, you know? Like a lot of them had some kind of partial vision or light reception, but I had _nothing_. And the teacher bent down and pulled my hand along the page and eventually I learned how to print – but my handwriting is garbage and crooked as hell so I never write anything at all unless I have to sign like, a legal document – but I just remember being so _embarrassed_. No one explained to me exactly why she had to do this for me and not everyone else – I knew I couldn’t see what I was writing but I didn’t know that I was _supposed_ to see what I was writing – and that… that was really hard, for a while.” She brought her hand back down and squeezed Octavia’s knee. The muscle tensed under her fingers but then relaxed again almost immediately.

“Seeing people love to ask me about what I can see.” She felt Octavia stiffen under her hand, and was quick to continue, “And that’s fine! It really is. I don’t… I don’t _mind_ talking about this stuff with you, O. Because you… you want to know because of _me_ , not… not because of this weird obsession most people have with tragedy and disability and difference. When you ask me questions it feels… I don’t know, _sweet_? Sincere? Like you really care and you really want to know. And you’re so flustered every time you talk about it that I know you’re just terrified of upsetting me and that is like the _nicest_ feeling in the world because people don’t usually bother with that, with trying not to offend me. It’s like… because I’m blind my emotions don’t matter as much.”

“I’m sorry that it feels that way.”

Raven shrugged. “It’s not like… it isn’t _offensive_ anymore. I’m used to it.”

“It’s horrible that that’s something you had to get used to.”

Raven smiled, but it was sad, twitching at the corners of her lips but not touching the corners of her eyes. “I guess it isn’t the best.” There was a long pause when neither of them said anything, until Raven, in a last burst of energy, started up again. “Most of the time, seeing people just really like to talk about all the things I _can’t_ see. Like ‘what does that dog look like?’ or ‘how many fingers am I holding up?’ and it gets _really_ frustrating really quickly. But when I was younger, I learned to lie about it. I tried to make people happy – I went to all of these doctors and had a bunch of surgeries when I was a kid, trying to fix the problem – and I tried to lie to my parents and to the doctors and to teachers at school about things like light perception and shadows and stuff. It didn’t work, not for very long, but… people really liked to hear that I could actually _see_ stuff, and I knew I made my parents happy if I said I could see things. Mostly I tried to make people happy so they would leave my alone and I could go on to other things that I _actually_ wanted to do.”

Octavia shifted her body closer, and it was clear she was immersed in this conversation (everything about her posture said so), and Raven flushed, a little, at all the attention. She wasn’t sure she had every spoken for this long, this _sincerely_ , about being blind. No one had ever let her get this far.

She cleared her throat and went on in a quiet, hushed murmur, “Nobody meant to teach me to lie, but they did.” Raven took in a shaky breath. “And once you get older and people teach you that it’s inappropriate to talk to sick people about their sickness, or to point out when a disabled person has a disability, people stop talking to you altogether… unless they have to.”

“ _I_ didn’t have to,” Octavia ventured quietly, and Raven smiled.

“Oh sure you did,” when Octavia shifted next to her (she heard the sharp intake of breath, like Octavia was about to argue), when she added in a joking voice, “no one wants to be the awkward third wheel in Lexa and Clarke’s romance sandwich.”

“Wait,” Octavia pulled away, her knee slipping out from under Raven’s hand, “wait is that really why you think I started hanging out with you? Because I wanted to get away from Lexa and Clarke?”

Raven’s brow furrowed. “ _Isn’t_ that the reason?”

“ _No_ , of course not, it’s because —” Octavia cut herself off and took in a deep, steadying breath. The silence felt big, like something important was looming over them, making the air heavy and the space between them fraught with… with something. Anticipation? Excitement? “Raven when I saw you for the first time at that party, I —”

_‘Lexa. Lexa. Lexa.’_ Raven’s phone chirped from the table, and Raven smiled apologetically. “Sorry, hold that thought, I’ve gotta get this. Lex told me she forgot her key today and I might need to let her in.”

An unsteady breath from next to her. “Yeah sure, no worries, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.” Raven felt Octavia stand and she grabbed her phone as her friend’s footsteps retreated into the apartment.

“Hey loser, you locked out?” She said into her phone, happy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Sometimes it was hard to talk about being blind, sometimes it was annoying, most of the time it was draining, but with Octavia… with Octavia, for maybe the first time, it felt _good_. Safe.

She wanted to do it again.

“Yeah I’ll come buzz you in, no worries.” She hung up the phone and stood, grabbing her keys from the hook on the wall. “Hey Octavia I’ll be back in like two seconds, okay? I gotta get Lexa.”

“Yeah okay.” Raven pulled the front door open. “Wait!” Octavia called, and her footsteps approached quickly.

Raven paused. “What’s wrong, is my shirt on inside-out?” She teased.

“No it’s… you’re beautiful. That’s why I wanted to talk to you at that party.”

Raven stopped where she stood, completely frozen in wonderment and disbelief. “What?”

“Sorry, that sounds so superficial, doesn’t it? Ugh,” Octavia groaned, “that isn’t what I meant to say, not what… not what I _wanted_ to say but… I don’t know, seeing you… it changed something in me and I wanted to… I wanted to get to know you. I’m sorry, I’m not like a really _vain_ person, I don’t only talk to pretty people but… yeah, that’s why I talked to you. Because you were beautiful and something about you felt important to me so I wanted to get to know you.”

Raven smiled. “I’m glad you talked to me.”

“Can I touch your hand?” Octavia asked, and once she got Raven’s affirming nod, she reached out and slowly (and, she’s embarrassed to say, shakily) slid her fingers in between Raven’s. “I’m really glad I talked to you too.”


	3. Chapter 3

 “Hey Lex, Octavia’s gonna swing by and we’re planning on watching _The West Wing_. You cool with that?”

“Oh…” Lexa’s voice sounded unsure and so Raven frowned.

“We don’t have to watch in here if you’re doing something,” she offered quickly. Lexa was busy applying to grad school, and Raven was a considerate person. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb her roommate needlessly with something as unimportant as a TV show. “We can go to my room and —”

“No no no I was just… yeah it’s fine if you watch in here. Did you…” There was a long pause as Lexa seemed to fumble for her words, “Did you want me to leave?”

Raven quirked her head to the side. “Why would I want you to leave?”

Lexa cleared her throat. “Well if you… you know… like how Octavia leaves when I go to her and Clarke’s place?”

Raven’s head recoiled slightly in surprise. She paused for a moment before she burst out laughing. “Oh my God Lex, no.” She laughed harder and bent forwards, resting her head against her shaking knees. “No, _no_ , Octavia and I aren’t… no.”

Lexa huffed from next to her and Raven figured she must have her arms crossed over her chest, the way she stands when she’s being defensive. “Well it isn’t exactly unfeasible Raven. You’re together _all the time_.”

Raven shook her head as her laughter dissipated but the smile didn’t leave her face. “There’s nothing going on between me and Octavia that would mean you had to leave the apartment.”

“But I’m _not_ crazy for thinking that, Ray.” Lexa paused again and Raven wondered whether she was trying to figure out _what_ to say or whether she was trying to figure out if she _should_ say something. Lexa let out a sharp exhale. “She _really_ likes you, Raven.”

“I like her too.”

“No Raven she… she _really_ likes you. More than just… she _likes_ you.”

Raven waved her off. “Yeah so you keep saying.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen, finding the refrigerator and grabbing a beer from the top shelf. “I think you’re reading too much into this. Not everyone is gay, Lex, as much as you might like to think so.”

Lexa followed her into the kitchen. “Who said anything about Octavia being gay?”

Raven laughed and opened a drawer, feeling around for something inside. “Where’s the bottle opener? It’s not in its spot.”

Shuffling feet behind her, a soft whoosh of air as Lexa passed, and then the cool metal was slipped into her palm. “Sorry I think Clarke must have moved it.”

Raven popped her drink open and took a sip, smiling behind the rim. “You gotta control your girlfriend, Lex. Comin’ into my house and touching all of my stuff, moving my bottle opener…” And she was kidding, because she didn’t _really_ care that Clarke had moved her bottle opener (because as far as these things went this was pretty inconsequential) but also… well also she _wasn’t_ kidding, because if Clarke was going to be spending more and more time with Lexa then she was going to start spending more and more time around their apartment, and that meant that more and more of her things were going to start getting displaced and misplaced and yeah, Lexa was here _this_ time, but what about the future? Raven needed her stuff to be in the same place because when it wasn’t it was _so much harder_ for her to find it than it was for Lexa.

So… the bottle opener wasn’t a big deal, she was teasing, and if Lexa said anything about it she would tell her she was teasing. But also…

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Lexa offered, sincerely and quietly.

Raven smiled and nodded once. “Thanks.”

“But you’re avoiding a more important conversation.”

“I’m not avoiding it, I’m dismissing it, because you’re being ridiculous.”

“It isn’t ridiculous of me to think that someone likes you… and especially not someone like Octavia! She’s beautiful and funny and smart and she _really_ cares about you Raven, I can tell.”

Raven left the room without responding, bottle raised to her lips but with (and this she tried to ignore) her heart fluttering just a little in her chest. Because… well because Octavia _was_ funny and smart and she _did_ seem to care about her and… well she spoke _beautifully_. And she walked like she was gliding across the floor, like her feet were skating across rocky terrain soundlessly in dark woods in the middle of the night. And… well Raven certainly _did_ like spending time with her. There was just… something about Octavia that… she didn’t know what it was but talking to her, being near her, it all felt so… so easy and safe and _comfortable_.

Lexa stomped after her, clearly mad that she was being ignored. “You’re _allowed_ to date. You’re allowed to want to be with somebody and you’re allowed to fall in love with somebody.”

“Woah, who said anything about _love_? I’m not… I don’t even know if I like her like that!”

“Well why _wouldn’t_ you?”

Raven slumped down into the couch. Her thumb picked worriedly at the label on her drink and she tried to figure out a way to express what she was feeling without coming off embarrassingly nervous. “You can’t just… I mean… Lex she _doesn’t_ like me. I know she doesn’t. If she did she would have… I don’t know, said something or done something to let me know that she did. Octavia doesn’t really keep secrets.”

“Raven I’m telling you, the way she looks at you…”

“Yeah well I can’t tell how she looks at me, can I?” Raven snapped. Lexa didn’t say anything back, so Raven huffed, and continued. “I can’t see how she looks at me, Lex. And forgive me for not taking your word for it. I’m not about to embarrass myself in front of Octavia when she doesn’t even like me. She’s my friend and _I_ really like _her_ and I really don’t want to ruin this. So if all you have going for you is ‘ _it’s the way she looks at you_ ,’ then sorry to dash your dreams of setting me up, but I’m not risking it.”

“Raven I… I’m sorry,” Lexa said quietly, and the couch sank just slightly as Lexa’s body fell into the empty space next to hers. “I didn’t mean to —”

“It’s fine, Lexa. Don’t worry about it.”

Lexa knew a dismissal when she heard one. She wordlessly stood from the couch, and Raven heard her booted feet pad over to the table next to the door. With a jangle of keys and the soft opening and closing of the front door, Lexa was gone.

And Raven was glad she left when she did because she really didn’t want Lexa to see her cry. She hadn’t cried about… well she hadn’t really cried since Finn.

Because despite what she had said to Lexa it _wasn’t_ really fine. It wasn’t. It wasn’t fine that Lexa had just decided to shatter her worldview in the matter of a five-minute conversation. It _wasn’t_ fine that Lexa could just… could just say all of these things to… and get her hopes up that maybe…

Because now, thanks to Lexa, Raven was forced to think about all of those sweeping sensations in her stomach and all of those exploding sparks on her fingers every time she touched Octavia. And she had to think about all of those long, silent moments between them, of the words left unsaid, of the things she wished she had the guts to do ( _Just grab her and kiss her_ , her brain had shouted at her after that first time they got dinner together). And she had to think about all of the times she had _let_ herself think about Octavia romantically ( _You’re blind,_ her mind supplied quietly one night while she tossed and turned in bed, _you’re blind and you can’t put Octavia through that… through a relationship with you)_. And she had to think about all of the reasons that they _shouldn’t_ be together ( _What if she meets her soulmate? What are you going to do then? Let her go or beg her to stay?_ ) and all of the reasons they _couldn’t_ be together ( _She doesn’t have feelings for you, idiot_ ) and now Raven just felt like _crying_.

Because, _fuck_ , this was like Finn all over again.

Finn, who had been one of her best friends all through high school. Finn, who had kissed her (thrillingly, unexpectedly) right before they went off to college, making Raven’s stomach swoop and making her think, for the first time, that maybe she _was_ loveable – that maybe just because she couldn’t see didn’t mean that she couldn’t live and love just like other people. Finn, who Lexa distrusted from the very beginning (but Raven had dismissed her distrust, had labeled it ‘needless concern’ and ‘overprotectiveness’ when she really should have paid closer attention). Finn, who Lexa had seen on a date with another girl; who, when Raven had confronted him about it, had denied it again and again ( _That was my cousin! Lexa doesn’t know_ what _she saw!_ ). Finn, who thought that because Raven couldn’t see that she couldn’t catch him cheating. Finn, who had used her disability in order to be unfaithful, who had then had the _audacity_ to turn around and beg for forgiveness, to say, “I didn’t think it would be a problem,” and, “You were never supposed to find out,” like _that_ was supposed to make her feel any better.

Finn, who she had loved, really and truly and deeply. And who had broken her heart really and truly and completely.

She got her hopes up with Finn. She let… she let herself think that… and look where it got her.

And… _fuck_ she was so scared. She was _so_ scared.

Because ( _And fuck you for this, Lexa_ , her mind hissed) she really _did_ like Octavia. A whole lot. Probably a whole lot more than she _should_ have liked Octavia, given that they’d only known each other for a few months and none of their interactions had even been romantic.

Because Octavia was nice. And she was funny and smart and easy to talk to and she never touched Raven without asking, or without being touched first, and she never made it seem like Raven needed unnecessary help with menial tasks, and she never led her around like a dog on a leash, and she was getting _so much better_ about announcing when she was in a room and about speaking instead of gesturing, and she came over to see _her_ , to see Raven and not Lexa, and not because Lexa and Clarke had kicked her out but because she _wanted_ to see Raven. And she was willing to sit next to her on the couch and read for _hours_ without speaking, and she never put in headphones because she always wanted to be able to hear what Raven was saying, and she told her what was on menus at restaurants but she didn’t order _for_ her like Finn had done (like her mom did) and she didn’t mind when Raven’s cane knocked over her coat rack and she laughed when Raven told stupid stories and she touched her so softly that —

Fuck she was in over her head, way, _way_ over her head.

Because she liked Octavia. _A_ _lot_.

But Octavia was also probably the best friend she had ever had, besides Lexa, and the idea of losing her… of losing what they had on a… what, on a _whim_? On Lexa’s _inkling_ that Octavia had feelings for her?

Christ, no. Good God, she could never… She couldn’t tell Octavia.

But fuck what if _Lexa_ told Octavia?

As if her thoughts had manifested and taken human form, there was a sudden pounding at her front door, and Raven jumped, startled out of her quiet reflection.

“Raven it’s me!” Octavia’s voice called, and Raven quickly stood, wiping furiously at her wet cheeks and hoping against hope that it didn’t look like she had just been crying (but she knew that it would, because Anya had told her once that she was, “ _A hideous crier,”_ which was first of all rude and second of all probably untrue – because Anya had been drunk at the time and Lexa had sworn up and down that Raven didn’t cry in an ugly way at all – but she still thought that she must look frightful). Her eyes felt thick and heavy in her skull and her sleeve was damp against her arm from where it had scrubbed hurriedly at her face.

“He–hey,” she said as she opened the door, voice cracking in the middle of the word. Raven swallowed and tried to smile (but it felt tight and wrong and pained to her and so she knew Octavia must have noticed). “Come on in.”

She stepped to the side and Octavia slid by her, her arm barely brushing against Raven’s shoulder, and Raven had to fight a shiver. _Fuck you Lexa,_ she thought, and swallowed thickly once more before closing the door.

Raven led the way into the living room, calling over her shoulder, “So Lexa bought some popcorn when she went to the store today, if you want to make —”

“I’m so sorry.” Octavia cut her off. Raven stopped where she stood, heart plummeting to her feet.

_Fuck_. Fuck Lexa must have told her that… fuck. She was here to say, _“Sorry Raven, we can’t be friends anymore because Lexa thinks that I’m into you and that makes me uncomfortable,”_ or, _God_ , worse: “ _I know you like me but I really don’t feel the same way and I don’t think we can keep seeing each other.”_

Raven shut her eyes tightly against the flood of tears she felt welling up inside of her. She bit her lip hard and feigned ignorance. “Oh?” She asked, and she could hear the shake in her voice, and she _knew_ that it was weird that she wasn’t facing Octavia when she was talking to her, and God damn _Jesus Christ_ she was being so _obvious_. “What are you sorry for?”

“For–for whatever Lexa said. I know… I know that it upset you, and I…” Octavia trailed off for a second and then Raven heard a loud _smack_ that shook the light fixtures and she whirled around, suddenly scared.

“Octavia are you okay?” She asked, taking a few steps forward. But she wasn’t sure exactly where Octavia was, except that she must be somewhere off to the —

“Fuck, _shit_ , yes I’m fine.” Octavia’s voice grumbled and strained through the quiet, and Raven breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted her walk to the left so that she was moving more towards where Octavia’s voice was. “I punched your wall. _Fuck_ I’m so sorry Raven.”

“Why the _hell_ did you punch my wall?” Raven scrambled away, towards the kitchen, and she had to dig around for a few long moments in the freezer before her hand touched the frozen shape of one of those reusable icepacks that she always kept around (sometimes she bumped into chairs or counters or tables and her shins frequently wound up bloody and bruised so Lexa had insisted on first aid equipment in nearly every room which… okay it _was_ a little annoying but it was also kind of sweet).

She walked as quickly as she dared back out into the main room, stepping forwards and holding out the pack. “Take this, put it on your hand.” The pack disappeared from her hand and Octavia hissed as the cold was applied to her smarting knuckles. “Are you okay? Is anything broken?”

Another hiss of pain, but then Octavia said, “No, no nothing’s broken. I can still move everything.”

“Why the _fuck_ did you punch my wall, O?”

“I don’t know I was… I was mad and frustrated and… honestly Lexa’s lucky that I didn’t hit _her_ , but I came over here as soon as she told me what happened and… Jesus Ray I’m so sorry I never meant for you to find out like this.”

Raven shook her head, suddenly very confused. “I don’t understand. What was I not supposed to find out?”

“I told her not to tell you, I told her that it would make you upset. I’m sorry, I completely understand if… if you want to st–stop hanging out.” Octavia’s voice was wavering and it almost… it almost sounded like she was about to _cry_ and Raven was just so _utterly_ confused.

She took a step forward and held out her hand, reaching until it brushed against what must have been Octavia’s upper arm. Raven slid forward, then, wrapping both of her arms around Octavia’s shoulders as the younger girl sank heavily into the embrace. She was shaking, and Raven tried to soothe her as best she could even though she didn’t understand _what was happening_ or _why_ …

“Why are you crying?” She whispered, and Octavia, rather than answering right away, brought her hands up and gripped tightly to Raven’s waist, holding her close and pulling them forcefully together. “Octavia talk to me. I don’t understand what’s… why would I want to stop hanging out with you?”

When Octavia spoke, her voice cracked on her words but they still sent something aflame in Raven’s breast. “Lexa told you how I felt and it made you _cry_ , Raven. I’m so–sorry, I didn’t… I’m _fine_ with being just fr–friends that’s totally okay with me I just want you in my life and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry Lexa couldn’t keep her big m–mouth shut, but —”

Raven’s mind finally seemed to catch up to the words tumbling from Octavia’s lips, like a stream whose ice-dam had just melted and broken loose. She ripped herself away, and a choked sob escaped from Octavia’s chest, and Raven felt like she couldn’t _breathe_.

“How you… how you _felt_?” She asked, voice barely whispering through the air between them. “You mean y–you have _feelings_? For _me_?”

“Yes.” Raven gaped at her, mouth open and hands hanging uselessly at her sides. “Wait you didn’t… you didn’t know?” Raven shook her head. “But Lexa said that she —”

“She was trying to _convince_ me that you had feelings for me but I didn’t believe her.”

“Oh.” Octavia sounded pained again, and Raven wanted to say _something_ , to reassure her, to… she didn’t know _what_ she wanted to do but this moment felt big and important, bigger than her and more important than anything she’d had to deal with in a long time and she wasn’t sure how to… how… “Oh fuck.” Octavia breathed again and Raven’s knees shook beneath her and she _still_ couldn’t find the right words. “I’m sorry I thought you… she said you knew.”

“I didn’t… I couldn’t believe her. It didn’t sound… _real_.”

“Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” and it sounded like Octavia was teetering on the brink of emotional disaster. There was a wet _thump_ from somewhere in front of her (the icepack slipping to the ground, Raven would later learn), and Octavia, breathing hard and fast and unsteadily, said, with a quivering voice, “I have to go.”

“Octavia wait —” Raven tried to stop her. She reached her hand out but hit nothing but air.

Raven spun around, ears pricking to catch the sound of Octavia and her shuddering breath and her gliding feet approaching the front door.

“I’m sorry,” Octavia’s voice said, and Raven moved towards it, trying to… _what was she trying to do?_ “I’m so sorry. I’ll… I’ll call you Raven I jus–just have to go.”

“Octavia please don’t —”

But the front door was already open, and Octavia was already out in the hallway. Her feet were already pounding on the ground, hurrying, racing away from Raven’s door and towards the stairwell.

And Raven stood in the doorway, desperation and longing coursing through her body, and also anger and frustration because she couldn’t go after Octavia. She _couldn’t_. By now Octavia must be at street level, and Raven didn’t have her cane in her hand, didn’t have her sunglasses on her face, didn’t know in which direction Octavia would be headed (toward campus? Towards her apartment? Or the other direction, towards the city and the restaurants and the parks?) and so she couldn’t go after her.

And the fury, the _frustration_ of the situation hit her so hard, so squarely in the chest that she went a little weak at the knees. She bit her lips, hands clenched into tight fists, and for the first time in a very, _very_ long time, she wished desperately that she could _see_.

**

The front door banged open, smacking into the adjacent wall so loudly that Clarke and Lexa jumped where they sat on the couch, bodies curled into each other as some old black and white movie played (ignored) on the TV.

Clarke leapt from her seat, eyes wide and confused. “Octavia what the hell?”

Octavia stalked forwards, murderous gaze trained on Lexa (who, much to her credit, did not flinch or back away, but rather stared at Octavia dead-on and let her stomp forwards).

Octavia jabbed an accusatory finger in Lexa’s face, and hissed, “You said you told her.”

Lexa stood from the couch, arms held tightly behind her back. “I _did_ tell her.”

“Well you didn’t say that she _didn’t believe_ _you_.”

Clarke’s head snapped in Lexa’s direction now too, her brow furrowed in disapproval. Lexa straightened her spine and said, coolly, “Well what was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for the two of you to get your act together?”

“That is _exactly_ what you were supposed to do,” Octavia hissed. “This is my _life_ , Lexa. This is… this is _my_ relationship with _my_ friend and you had no right to… tell her how I felt or to–to manipulate me into doing what you want!”

“I wasn’t trying to —”

“That is _exactly_ what you were doing! You’re not in charge of what I say or do or who I date, and you _aren’t_ Raven’s goddamn keeper, and if I want to go the rest of my life without telling her that I have feelings for her I have every damn right to do so!”

Lexa huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think that that is ridiculous. Why would you not want her to know how you feel? What could you _possibly_ be waiting for?”

“Has it ever occurred to you, maybe,” Octavia growled, low in the back of her throat, “that there might be things you don’t know about that are keeping me from asking Raven out?”

Lexa pulled a face. “Like what? Like soulmates?” Octavia didn’t answer, which… she wasn’t saying yes but she also wasn’t saying no, and Lexa really wasn’t sure what to make of that, so she pressed on. “If you like her you should just ask her out! I mean… the soulmate thing is… it’s… it isn’t really important because it’s highly likely that either one of you will ever —”

“Lexa,” Clarke cut her off sternly, placing a hand on Lexa’s elbow to effectively halt her.

But the damage was done.

Octavia glared, lip trembling (was she furious or about to cry? Lexa couldn’t tell) with fists clenched at her sides.

She turned on her heel and stormed off further into the apartment, towards her bedroom.

“Octavia…” Clarke tried to call out to her, tried to stop her, but Octavia was already gone, already in her bedroom and slamming the door.

Lexa winced at the noise, and Clarke stared helplessly at the closed wood separating her from her best friend. She wanted to go in, Lexa could tell; she wanted to talk to Octavia and help her and placate her and ease her worries because that was just _who Clarke was_ … always desperate to fix everything.

But as Clarke turned to face her, eyes dark with stormy displeasure, Lexa had to gulp, because maybe Clarke couldn’t fix this.

“Clarke I…” She tried, but trailed off, because she really didn’t know what she was going to say. Was she going to apologize? She wasn’t sorry; she _wasn’t_. Octavia and Raven were both being unreasonable, as far as she was concerned. They both liked each other, she _knew_ that, so why wouldn’t they want to be together, if they could? If she and Clarke had wasted all that time dancing around each other…

“She’s right, you know,” Clarke offered, and Lexa blinked, bringing herself back to the present, “you shouldn’t have told Raven about her feelings.”

Lexa shook her head, a disbelieving expression on her face. “Are you serious? You were… we just talked about this! You said they were being ridiculous too!”

“Yeah, and I think that they _are_ , but Lex… they’re _allowed_ to be ridiculous! And if they aren’t going to face up to their feelings you can’t _make_ them!”

“Why on _Earth_ can’t I try to —?”

“Their relationship – or lack thereof – isn’t any of your business! Octavia’s scared, and she’s afraid, and she’s been hurt before and... from what you’ve said, Raven has too.” _That_ shut her up pretty quickly. “And they’re _scared_ , Lex. It isn’t easy starting a new relationship.”

“Look I… I _know_ that it isn’t easy. But Clarke… I mean _come on_ , they have to do _something_. They can’t just… just sit and be miserable because they’re interested in each other but neither one will say anything about it! And Raven… she… she can’t _tell_ , she can’t read Octavia’s body language like everyone else can. I mean… _you_ see how obvious she is, right? How clearly she wants to —”

Clarke held up a hand, and Lexa fell silent immediately. In a quiet and trembling voice, Clarke asked (and she sounded a little shocked), “Are you… are you saying that you did this because you think that Raven… that because she’s blind she can’t tell that…”

Lexa’s stomach sank, even as Clarke’s words trailed off. But she didn’t need Clarke to finish them, because… because that’s _exactly_ why she had done this. Only… only she hadn’t _realized_ that she was doing it.

She tried, she tried _so hard_ to treat Raven just like she treated everyone else. She worked every day, day in and day out, to make sure that when she interacted with Raven she wasn’t condescending to her, that she wasn’t talking down to her or babying her because Raven hated nothing more than being babied, than being treated like she couldn’t take care of herself. Because she _could_ take care of herself, and Lexa _knew_ that. They had lived together for four years, _of course_ she knew that.

But she still…

But still, Raven _wasn’t_ like everyone else. And as much as she… as much as she tried or as much as she wanted it to be true, it just _wasn’t_. Spending time with Raven was not the same as spending time with Lincoln or Anya or Clarke and she…

She felt sick, and her hands trembled, and she opened her mouth to try to… to explain? To tell Clarke that she was wrong?

But Clarke _wasn’t_ wrong. Because Lexa – as deeply as she loved her best friend – was still, clearly, capable of attempting to remove Raven’s agency. Even if she was doing so inadvertently.

And _why_? Because she thought she was doing what was best for Raven?

Because she didn’t want her best friend to be alone for the rest of her life?

She certainly _didn’t_ want Raven to be alone for the rest of her life, but… but did that mean that she could try to force a relationship between two unwilling parties?

She shook her head again, and only just now noticed that Clarke had taken a few hesitant steps forward, worry sharply etched into her face.

Lexa backed up, expression darkening even as she fought a flush of embarrassed humiliation. She hated being backed into a corner; she hated being wrong; she hated feeling defensive. It only served to make her angrier.

“I didn’t do anything… I wasn’t trying to _hurt_ her, Clarke.”

“Lex… I know you weren’t. It’s just that —”

Lexa shook her head vigorously, brow furrowed. “You think that I tried to manipulate Raven and Octavia into starting a relationship,” ( _but isn’t that what you were doing?_ her mind whispered, but she ignored it) “you think that I haven’t _considered_ the options? That I haven’t thought this through, considered every possible way this could play out?” ( _but you haven’t_ , her mind supplied again) “You think that I would do something… _anything_ to hurt Raven?”

Now Clarke was on the defensive. “That isn’t what I —”

“I _love her_ , Clarke. She’s my best friend. And I’ve known her a hell of a lot longer than you have, so what gives you the right to try to analyze our relationship… to–to try and tell me what’s best for her? How the _fuck_ do you know what’s best for her?”

“Well how do _you_?” Clarke shot back, angry and flushed and beginning to feel suddenly, rapidly, dizzyingly out of control. What the fuck was _happening_ , here? Why were they even fighting? “You aren’t Raven! And you aren’t Octavia! And you can’t see inside their minds and you don’t know what their relationship is like and you don’t know that either of them really wants this and I just really think that it isn’t okay for you to try and —”

“I’m not listening to this anymore.” Lexa brushed past Clarke and grabbed her keys and wallet and phone from the table.

Clarke stared at her in shock. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Lexa whirled around and Clarke was surprised to see that her deep, green eyes were watering with unshed emotions. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you attack me when I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lexa said in a quiet voice.

“You can’t leave right now, we’re in the middle of an argument!” Clarke called, trailing after Lexa’s irate and tense form as she stomped towards the door. “You can’t just leave when we’re —”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Clarke,” Lexa shot over her shoulder before she walked out of the apartment, door closing firmly behind her.

Clarke blinked – eyes dry and disbelieving – at the empty space in front of her. How could Lexa just… how could she just _go_ right when they were…

Soft footsteps, the creaking of hardwood floors, and then Octavia’s voice, quiet and sad from behind her, said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I never meant for you and Lexa to fight about this.”

Clarke sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she brushed them away angrily. With a sniff, she said, “Don’t worry about it. She was being an ass.”

Octavia came up behind her and wrapped her arms tightly around Clarke’s body. Clarke closed her eyes as the urge to cry reared its ugly head up within her chest again. Her diaphragm shook and she bit her lip in a valiant attempt to staunch her tears, but it didn’t help. She sank into Octavia’s tight hug and allowed the emotions past, salty water slipping down red cheeks and Octavia only gripped her harder.

“I do–don’t know why I’m crying,” Clarke managed to gasp between harsh breaths, “this is–isn’t even about me. Lexa was…”

“She’s your soulmate,” Octavia whispered into the skin of Clarke’s neck, “you never want to fight with her.”

Clarke spun in Octavia’s arms and returned the embrace, burying her head in the soft fabric of Octavia’s shirt. “But I _should_ be able to fight with her. That’s what… that’s what a healthy relationship _is_. It–it’s fighting sometimes, and communicating, and laughing, and crying, and… _God_ I can’t expect it to be perfect so why… _why_ am I crying?”

Octavia pressed a kiss to Clarke’s temple and brushed the hair out of her face as she pulled back. “Because you love her,” she said simply, and kissed Clarke’s forehead once. Clarke closed her eyes at the sensation and one lonely sob slipped through her closed lips. “You love her and you don’t ever want to fight with her.”

And Octavia was right; Clarke knew it. She hated this feeling. She and Lexa had never _fought_ before, not really, not seriously (disputes over where to eat dinner or which movie to watch _didn’t_ count) but that shouldn’t be enough to make her _sob_ like this in Octavia’s arms.

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” Octavia asked kindly, and Clarke nodded, voice too fragile to respond.

Octavia led the way into her bedroom. A lone, dark purple lamp on Octavia’s bedside table bathed the room in a soft sort of shadowy light that reminded Clarke of warm summer evenings, of long nights spent sprawled in the back of a pickup truck and Octavia’s laughing voice in her ear, and the _nostalgia_ of it all calmed her more than she thought anything could.

Octavia slid into bed (she was already wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt, but Clarke hadn’t noticed earlier) and Clarke kicked off her pants, undoing her bra under her shirt and sliding the straps down her arms, letting the garment fall to the floor.

She slid into Octavia’s bed and curled into her side like they were sixteen and had just stumbled home from drinking too much in Harper’s basement. Octavia didn’t complain, merely twisted and fit her body perfectly into the shape of Clarke’s side, arm thrown over her friend’s waist and fingers tracing curling patterns soothingly on the skin of Clarke’s exposed hip.

Octavia kissed her cheek and Clarke found that she no longer felt like she wanted to cry. She took a few deep, calming breaths for good measure.

Then, Clarke rotated so that the two of them faced each other in the dim light of the room. Clarke felt warm and safe and _loved_ in Octavia’s bed, and she reminded herself (in a flash of guilt) that she really needed to focus on spending more time with her best friend. Because Octavia was _amazing_ ; she was lovely and kind and fierce and thick-headed, but most of all she _cared_ about Clarke. And Clarke cared about _her_ , too. And with Lexa and the whole finding-your-soulmate thing… she had let her relationship with Octavia falter, choosing Lexa’s warm bed instead of a spot next to Octavia on the couch, dinner and drinks over quiet study-evenings, and she felt guilty because that wasn’t right.

And she loved Lexa, she _did_ , and she _loved_ spending time with her (and Octavia would _never_ complain because she wanted Clarke to be happy over everything else in her life), but she loved Octavia, too. Not in the same way, obviously, but that didn’t make it any less real; didn’t make it any less passionate or sincere.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been spending so much time with Lexa,” she whispered, and Octavia blinked a few times. She didn’t deny that Clarke _had_ been doing that, and she didn’t deny that it _had_ been hurting her (Clarke’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at Octavia’s silent confirmation), but she also wasn’t _mad_ at Clarke.

“I understand why you did,” she ventured instead, “you were excited. And I like Lexa _a lot_ , Clarke, so if you’re ditching me for someone I’m glad it’s her.”

“Still…” Clarke shifted a little, trying to nestle herself more firmly in the sheets. Octavia slid her socked feet over Clarke’s (which Clarke appreciated because her feet _were_ cold and she hadn’t even noticed but _of course_ Octavia had). “Still I’m sorry that this is the first like… real sleepover we’re having in months. And I’m sorry that it’s because… that it happened the way that it did.”

Octavia smiled, and it was equal parts sad and understanding, loving and accepting, “I’m glad that we’re getting another chance to sleep in the same bed. I thought that you had permanently replaced me with Lexa by now.”

Clarke shook her head. She knew Octavia was kidding, at least a little bit, but… “I’m never replacing you with her.” Octavia’s breath hitched, and Clarke pushed herself up just a little bit when she realized that she had clearly struck a nerve. “Octavia,” she said, more firmly and directly, bringing her hand up to cup her friend’s face, “I am _not_ replacing you with Lexa. I’m not… I’m not looking for a new best friend. We’re still who we are… you’re still _so_ important to me. Lexa’s not going to kick you out of my life. Okay?”

Octavia nodded but didn’t answer, and Clarke’s thumb brushed under her left eye, collecting and wiping away the few tears that had silently fallen there.

“She isn’t replacing you,” Clarke repeated again, and Octavia nodded again, and Clarke fell forwards then and wrapped her arms tightly around Octavia’s torso and buried her face in sweet-smelling hair.

After a few long, tearful moments, Octavia’s shuddering voice said, with a laugh, “God we’re both crying messes tonight aren’t we?”

Clarke laughed too and pulled away, wiping at her own eyes. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and smiling down, “at least you had a good reason to cry. I’m clearly just a hormonal mess.”

Octavia shook her head. “You had a good reason to cry too.”

Clarke scoffed and flopped back down onto the bed. “Oh yeah? And what was that?”

“You got scared, obviously,” Octavia said like it was the most apparent thing in the world (but it _wasn’t_ because Clarke had no idea what she was talking about). “You got scared because… because up until now your whole relationship with Lexa has been sunshine and rainbows and you haven’t had to deal with anything real. You’ve just been going on dates and having sex – you haven’t met each other’s families or seen anyone die or had to go through finals week together or adopt a dog or pay the rent. You’ve just been… _coasting_. And this just… made it all real for you, you know? Like this is _it_. This is your soulmate; this is who you’re gonna be with for the rest of your life and, _clearly_ , the rest of your life isn’t always gonna be sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes it’s gonna get hard.” Clarke blinked at her, wondering how on Earth it was possible that Octavia seemed to know her better than she knew herself. “And that scared you, to think that just because Lexa’s your soulmate doesn’t mean that everything is just gonna be easy in your relationship.”

“Yeah I… yeah.” Clarke said, voice huskier than usual (probably due to the late hour and the fact that she had been crying rather a lot tonight). “Yeah,” she whispered again, and Octavia smiled at her, knowing and sad, and pulled Clarke into a hug once again.

“But it isn’t like you need a _reason_ to cry, Clarke. Sometimes people are just sad. Sometimes the emotions just get to be… sometimes they’re a lot. Sometimes you just _need_ to cry, you know?”

“Yeah O. I know.”

Octavia nodded against the top of her head. “Good,” she said, and she rolled over quickly, just fast enough to hit the switch on the lamp, before she was back, warm body pressed against Clarke’s in the now-dark room.

It was silent for a long, long time, and Clarke thought Octavia must have drifted off to sleep, when: “If you kick me during the night I’m throwing you on your ass.”

And Clarke laughed and felt a whole lot better than she had for hours.

**

Clarke awoke to sunlight streaming in from outside Octavia’s window, hitting her directly in the face and forcing a disgruntled huff from her lips, even as she rolled over and tried to stuff her head back into Octavia’s pillow.

Octavia made a little noise next to her but otherwise didn’t stir.

Clarke breathed deeply, eyes still closed, and wondered what exactly had woken her up. It was still early (at least it _felt_ early) and she was a late sleeper on a regular day (after the emotional stresses of last night, Clarke had fully expected to sleep all the way into the afternoon).

Then her phone buzzed angrily next to her again, and she knew that her body hadn’t betrayed her, but something else (someone else) had roused her from her fitful slumber.

Clarke sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes and smacking her lips a few times. Her eyes felt thick, her throat dry, and a headache smarted in the center of her forehead and at the crown of her head. She hated waking up the morning after she had been crying; she always felt like garbage.

Clarke glanced at her phone’s screen, and when she saw that it was Lexa’s picture, Lexa’s grinning face staring up at her, she felt equal parts nervous and excited and worried (which wasn’t totally unusual to feel when Lexa called her, but this time her heart beat much closer to _trepidation_ than _elation_ ).

Clarke glanced down at Octavia, who looked remarkably peaceful in sleep (Clarke’s mind flashed to 18, to sleeping late into the morning every day of the summer before they went off to school, to warm nights spent awake and chattering, to the smell of beer and perfume and weed).

She slipped from the bed and from the room, simultaneously sliding her thumb across her phone’s screen to answer the incoming call.

“Lex?” She asked, trying to keep her voice down just in case she woke Octavia.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice was quiet through the speaker. Clarke paused, leaning against the wall in her living room, waiting for Lexa to say something else. “Are you still at your apartment?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Is it alright if I come inside? I’m… I’m at the door.”

Clarke’s spine straightened, and she dropped her hand to her side, hurrying across the room to the front door. She clicked the lock open and pulled.

Lexa stood on the other side, looking sheepish, phone still pressed to the side of her head.

“You could have… you have a key.”

“I didn’t want to intrude, to… to barge in if you didn’t want me… if you were still mad.”

And _fuck_ , it was hard to stay mad at this girl when she was just so goddamn _considerate_. Even if she was an ass she was still so fucking _adorable_.

Clarke held the door open and used her head to gesture for Lexa to come inside.

By the time Clarke had the front door closed, Lexa had made it to the middle of the living room. She stood, shoulders hunched, back to Clarke, and inhaled deeply, before she started to say, “Look Clarke, about last night, I was —”

“No do–don’t start here.” Lexa turned to face her. “Come to my room. Octavia’s still asleep.” Lexa nodded and led the way through the back hallway to Clarke’s open door.

Lexa walked into the room but stopped suddenly, staring at Clarke’s pristine bed. She turned on her girlfriend, eyes wide with worry, and asked, “Did you not sleep last night?”

“I slept in Octavia’s room.”

Lexa cast her eyes down to Clarke’s bare legs, and the muscles in her forehead scrunched just slightly (an almost imperceptible wince of confusion), before she asked, voice desperately trying to seem nonchalant, “Oh? Like… like that?” Her eyes flicked down to Clarke’s legs again and Clarke felt annoyance and fury bubble up in her chest.

She glared. “Are you seriously about to pull some jealous shit with me right now? _Really_ Lexa?”

“No I… I’m sorry.” Lexa shifted, her hands moving to clasp behind her back (Clarke knew that they would be ringing together, because that’s what Lexa always did when she was uncomfortable). She stood like a soldier, back ramrod straight and chin held high and it was so endearing, so _Lexa_ , that Clarke wanted to smile at her. But she didn’t.

Clarke took a breath. “Let me put on some pants, then you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

As sweatpants slid over hips, Lexa’s quiet voice said, almost sadly, “I didn’t come here to _say_ anything. I wanted to…” Clarke turned to look at her, “I’m just _sorry_. I didn’t mean to… I was wrong, last night. I was wrong and I got defensive and I took it out on you because you were _right_ and that scared me and I didn’t like it. I felt… I felt guilty and I was angry at myself and I made myself angry at _you_ because that was easier than the truth.” Lexa’s hands fell from behind her back, her body collapsing into anguished defeat. “I’m so sorry Clarke. I never meant to…”

Clarke shook her head and stepped forward, wrapping one hand around Lexa’s neck and bringing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Lexa whimpered into the contact, relief visibly and noticeably flooding through her body.

Clarke pulled away and stood on her toes, resting her forehead against Lexa’s with closed eyes. “You can’t storm out of the apartment every time you get angry, Lex.” She whispered, “That isn’t healthy; that isn’t what… you can’t do that again, okay?”

Lexa nodded, eyes downcast and ashamed. “I promise I won’t.”

Clarke pulled back and brought her hand to Lexa’s chin, raising her head so that their eyes met. Blue met green with ferocious determination. “I mean it,” Clarke said quietly, “you aren’t walking out on me like that again, Lexa. I won’t be in a relationship with someone who isn’t willing to talk to me when she gets mad.”

And Lexa gulped, but nodded, because she knew that Clarke was telling the truth.

They were soulmates; they were destined to be together. The universe meant for them to spend the rest of their lives together and Lexa was determined to make sure that that happened. Because she _loved_ Clarke; she loved Clarke with everything in her being and she was falling more and more in love with her with each passing day, with every sunset filtering through half-closed curtains and with every lazy, rainy Saturday spent in bed, and with every kiss, and with every laughing conversation, and with the way Clarke liked to draw her while she slept, with the way Clarke’s tumbling hair looked in the morning, mussed from sleep and in desperate need of a brush, and the way Clarke liked to wear big sweaters that swallowed her body when it got drafty in the apartment and with the way Clarke _loved_ , so fiercely and so determinedly. She loved Clarke.

But Clarke was strong; Clarke was determined and tough and Clarke knew what she wanted (and Lexa _loved_ her for this, she really did). Clarke didn’t take shit; not from her professors, not from her friends, not from that annoying kid who worked behind the counter at that pastry shop, not from that asshole on the subway who had shot a snide comment their way when they had sat next to each other holding hands one day… not from anyone. So Clarke wasn’t about to start taking shit from Lexa.

Because they _were_ soulmates, but that didn’t mean that their relationship would be perfect. Because it was still a relationship, just like any other. And the universe had made mistakes before, but this was _not_ one of them, Lexa was sure of that (she was right) and she wasn’t about to let their whole relationship go to waste because she was stupid and stubborn and a defensive asshole.

“I promise,” she whispered against Clarke’s lips, “I won’t do it again. We’ll talk… we’ll spend all night talking, if we have to. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” Clarke nuzzled against her cheek, like a dog seeking warmth, “so just don’t be such a dick next time.”

Lexa nodded. “I’m sorry I was a dick,” she said seriously, and Clarke had to laugh.

“It’s okay. I’ve had to live with Octavia for years. I’m used to dicks.”

Lexa kissed her, then, and when she did her heart felt lighter than it had in days and her stomach had settled and she thought that… maybe, just maybe, they didn’t need the universe to tell them that they were meant to be together at all. And maybe that was good, because believing in your soulmate was one thing, but relying on destiny or colors to keep a relationship strong was no way to build a life. And Lexa wasn’t about to let this smart, beautiful, wonderful girl go just because she had to be dramatic. She believed with all of her being that Clarke was her soulmate, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have to work to keep Clarke.

And she _would_ work to keep Clarke. She wouldn’t let her go.

She wouldn’t. She _couldn’t_.

(She didn’t.)

**

Clarke and Lexa were busy making up (Octavia didn’t blame them; they hadn’t ever really _fought_ before, and Clarke was pretty shaken up about the whole thing last night, so the fact that she was happy again was frankly a relief to Octavia). And though Octavia didn’t begrudge them their personal time, she _did_ sort of really need someone to talk to. Last night had been all about Clarke (and she didn’t _mind_ that, honestly she didn’t), but _she_ was upset, too.

Her whole relationship… her whole _friendship_ with Raven might be going down the drain. Because Lexa had meant well, but she had opened her big mouth about something Octavia wasn’t anywhere near ready to talk about; because Octavia had jumped the gun and raced over to Raven’s in a fit of blind panic over something that turned out to be nothing; because she hadn’t been honest when they had first met, and now it seemed it was too late for her to _ever_ be; because she had fled last night without explaining… without letting _Raven_ explain. And she needed to talk to _someone_ about it.

But who could she talk to? Not Clarke, who was busy with her girlfriend; not Bellamy, who was sure to tease her relentlessly about having a crush on someone; not her mother, who… she wasn’t even going to go _into_ that. She really didn’t know anyone else well enough to talk to them about this.

Except… maybe…

She called Lincoln.

Lincoln, who had exchanged numbers with her after the third time they had bumped into each other at the campus bookstore; who always had kind words for her, a pleasant smile on his face; who always asked questions and seemed interested in what was going on in her life and in what she was studying and in what was happening with Clarke and Lexa.

It was a weird instinct, a strange desire that overtook her body to call him, but call him she did.

He picked up after the second ring, and he had agreed to meet her at the corner café after only two minutes. And he showed up fifteen minutes after that, smiling kindly and slipping into the seat opposite her.

Octavia smiled tightly and gestured at a second steaming cup of coffee that she had set out for him. “I wasn’t totally sure what you liked.”

He smiled back. “This is just fine.” Octavia nodded but kept her head down, eyes watching her fidgeting fingers. “So why the sudden call?” He asked after a moment. “Not that I’m complaining, obviously. Just wondered what made you change your mind about hanging out with me.”

Octavia laughed nervously. “Do I need a reason?” She asked, but her eyes were shifty and seemed disinclined to meet Lincoln’s.

“You don’t _need_ a reason but I think that you do have one.” Octavia sighed but still didn’t say anything, choosing instead to chew on her lower lip. “Are you fighting with someone?” He asked quietly.

She glanced up at him. “What makes you say that?”

“You keep playing with your phone, and you’re bouncing all over the place, and you look like you didn’t sleep that well last night. Feels like you’re waiting for something but you don’t want to make the first move.”

Octavia hadn’t even realized that her phone was in her hands, but now that she thought about it, she _had_ been picking it up to check every thirty seconds or so since she had gotten her drink.

She let it fall to the table with a loud _thunk_.

As if hitting the table had brought it to life, her phone started vibrating, rattling the cups in their saucers and bringing Lincoln’s attention down to the screen. Raven’s name popped up, superimposed over her picture, and Octavia flushed as she swiped to ignore the call.

 “You should talk to her, Octavia.”

Octavia looked up from her phone, guilt apparent on her face, but tried to play it off. “Talk to who?”

Lincoln shot her a look, eyebrow arched with both amusement and a knowing sort of ‘take-no-bullshit’ attitude. Octavia shifted under his gaze, breaking eye contact to look back down at her phone.

**_5 Missed Calls (Raven)_ **

“I just don’t know what to say to her,” she whispered.

Lincoln reached across the table and slid his hand over hers. “Is that why you asked me to get coffee? Because you didn’t know what to say to Raven?”

“No it’s… I mean a little, I guess, but I just… I don’t know what to do and I don’t want to talk to Clarke and Lexa about it because they got into a huge fight over this just last night and I can’t put them through that again. So I thought… I don’t know you know Raven pretty well and you seemed like you might want to get to know me too, so…” She looked up at him then, eyes wide and imploring, “ _Can_ you help me?”

“I can try,” he said, kindly and softly, and she nodded and bit her lip. “But you have to tell me what happened, first.”

So she explained, as well as she could, what had gone down – both last night and over the course of the past few months. How she had fallen for Raven (hard and fast and quickly and with little regard for her emotional health), how Clarke had figured it out, how she had told Lexa, how Lexa had told Raven, and how she had absolutely humiliated herself in front of the girl she was crazy about.

And Lincoln sat and listened with rapt attention while she explained, never breaking eye-contact, and always fully engaged with her story.

And she told him everything. ( _Almost_ everything; she left out the small yet significant detail that Raven was her goddamn _soulmate_ but she figured she could only lay so much onto this almost perfect stranger without overstepping.) She told him about their not-date-dates, about the way she felt when she looked at Raven, about the way her hands trembled and her knees went weak when Raven shot her that blinding, blistering smile of hers, how she felt light and airy every time Raven laughed.

But she also told him why she was afraid. She told him that she was nervous, because she felt _so much so quickly_ and she didn’t think it was _possible_ ; that she didn’t know whether or not Raven had any sort of reciprocal feelings for her; that she recognized that it was a big deal, entering into a relationship with someone who couldn’t see; that she was petrified of doing something wrong around her, of hurting her somehow, of violating her space or her trust (oh the fucking irony in that) without even meaning to.

When she got done with all of that, Lincoln was still meeting her gaze, and he didn’t look upset or frustrated or put-out (and _damn_ he was a good guy; Lexa and Raven were right to keep him around), he just looked interested and sympathetic to her plight.

“The first thing I think you’re doing wrong,” he said evenly, toying with the spoon in his cup, “is that you’re too worried of messing up around her, and so it’s making you walk around her like she’s fragile and made of glass. Not because you actually think that!” He was quick to add, when he saw Octavia’s face (an inch away from protest), “Because I don’t think that you _do_ think that. It’s just… Raven can tell when people are uncomfortable around her. And sometimes, when you overthink every little thing you say or do around her – if you blow certain things out of proportion _especially_ when she tells you that it doesn’t matter – then that bothers her. So… stop that. Stop being afraid that you’re going to say or do the wrong thing, because, and here’s the truth Octavia, you _will_ say and do the wrong thing, sometimes. That’s true of any relationship. You just have to be ready for it, you have to listen, and when she tells you something upset her you have to acknowledge and apologize and never do it again. It’s that simple.”

“Well… well when you say it like that it _does_ sound that simple.”

Lincoln smiled again. “And the other thing you have to do is talk to her. Actually, _really_ talk. And listen. Explain how you’re feeling and let her explain how she’s feeling.”

“But that’s what I don’t want to do, because what if it all blows up in my face?”

Lincoln shrugged. “Then it all blows up in your face.”

Octavia’s face fell into a glare. “Well gee, man, _that_ was reassuring.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “I’m not here to reassure you, I’m here to offer you advice. And that’s my advice.” Octavia looked down at her drink – which had long since gone cold – but she still looked unsure. Lincoln reached across the table and brushed her hand with his, lightly, so that her eyes flicked up and met his cool, reassuring brown ones. “You’re afraid,” he said, and it wasn’t a question but Octavia nodded anyways, “and that’s _okay_. Raven’s scared too, I’m sure. Starting a new relationship is scary. She hasn’t dated anyone seriously… or really anyone at all since Finn, and that was years ago and he really did a number on her.”

(Octavia wanted to ask, wanted to stop him and question him and pry this ‘Finn’ story out of him because people kept sliding it into casual conversation with her like she was supposed to know what it meant or why it was important just she just _didn’t_. But she knew that it wasn’t Lincoln’s story to tell; that this Finn guy, whoever he was, had really fucked Raven up somewhere in the past and if anyone deserved to tell that story, it was Raven herself. So she kept quiet.)

“You’re both nervous and excited and scared and that’s to be expected,” Lincoln continued quietly, “but that shouldn’t stop you from going after what you want. Even if it all blows up in your face. Because if you’re really friends, then you’ll be able to get past it – whatever badness may exist or come about because of this. But the _reward_ , Octavia, if this all turns out right? That has to be worth it.”

“But I don’t want to be scared,” Octavia practically whispered.

Lincoln shook his head. “Being scared isn’t a bad thing. Letting that fear dictate you and your actions… _that’s_ a bad thing.”

Octavia took a deep breath and pulled away, her jaw firmly set and her mind clearer than it had been in a while. “You’re right. You–you’re totally right. I’ve been such an idiot about this whole thing. God, Lincoln, _thank you_ ,” she said, forcing every ounce of sincerity in her body into those words. “You’ve been so cool about all of this. I mean, we don’t even _know_ each other, but you dropped everything to run over here and talk to me.” She shook her head. “You’re too good of a guy, Lincoln.”

He smiled uncertainly for the first time since they had met up, a slight tremor in his lips (which made Octavia nervous and confused and suddenly wary herself), and said, clearing his throat, “Yeah… about that…” he paused and seemed to steady himself. “Octavia I have to tell you something. It… it wouldn’t be right not to.”

Octavia stared at him, suddenly nervous. “What is it? You aren’t a serial killer, are you? This hasn’t been a whole elaborate Catfish that you’ve set up to trick me out of my Social Security Number and credit card information, right?”

He chuckled and flexed his fingers. “No. No it’s… it’s nothing like that.” One deep breath. “You’re my soulmate.”

Octavia blinked. She was… she was _what_?

She stared at Lincoln, mouth dropped open as disbelief and uncertainly coursed through her blood like ice.

“It happens sometimes, you know,” Lincoln said to her even as Octavia’s brain seemed to short-circuit and cease communicating with the rest of her body. “Sometimes one person is soulmates with someone who already has a soulmate, or who doesn’t feel anything for them. And it’s alright, Octavia, you don’t need to – I’m not interested in you romantically, so this doesn’t have to be a big thing.”

“Not a… not a _big thing_? This is… this is a _huge thing_.”

Fuck. Fuck what was… she was _his_ soulmate? Doubt crashed over Octavia in unprecedented waves. She was Lincoln’s soulmate. So was… was he _her_ soulmate?

What about Raven?

God, fuck, _shit_ , did this mean that Raven wasn’t…?

He shrugged. “I don’t think it really has to be.”

Octavia shook her head, teeth clenched. “How do–how do you know it’s me? I mean you… you know that I… that I’m…?”

He smiled just slightly. “Yeah. I know.”

“I just… Lincoln why didn’t you _tell_ me? Why didn’t you… that first night when we were talking why didn’t you _say_ something?”

He shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell Raven?” Octavia blushed and looked away, stammering heavily. Lincoln smiled and took pity on her. “I could kind of tell; it’s hard not to notice.”

“But you… I mean how… what if–if she isn’t —?”

“She’s the one for you, Octavia. I’m sure of it.”

“But _how_ can you be sure? If I’m your soulmate but you aren’t mine, how can you know that it won’t be the same deal with me and Raven?”

“You haven’t even tried yet,” he laughed, “how do you know if you don’t try?”

“ _You_ didn’t try!” She shot back at him, but it wasn’t angry (more desperate).

“I _did_ try,” he laughed again (and it was getting a little annoying that he was so amused by this whole situation), “but I could tell within about… 45 seconds of walking up to you that you’d never even be interested in me.”

Octavia flushed and ducked her head. “Well that’s not entirely fair… I didn’t even know you.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Raven’s gorgeous, O. She’s really, _really_ beautiful. One look at her and you were done for. It was written all over your face. I’m honestly surprised it took Clarke so long to figure it out. I knew right away.”

“But I… but that still doesn’t prove… Lincoln what if…” She exhaled sharply, shaking herself and trying to grasp her words more firmly. Fuck, she really didn’t know what to think or say. How was she supposed to process all of this? Her mind was racing at speeds her mouth couldn’t hope to match, thoughts forming and tumbling from within her before she could catch them. “How can you be so sure that Raven and I are ‘ _destined to be together_ ’ – whatever the fuck that means?”

“Because you love her,” he shrugged, “and what other reason is there to be soulmates with someone?”

“But you–you’re sure that it isn’t… that I didn’t see you, that night?”

He looked at her curiously (but not unkindly), and asked, “What’s the first thing you remember seeing in color?”

“Raven’s jacket,” Octavia answered easily, “it was red.”

“And your shirt was green.” Lincoln smiled at her and it reached all the way to his eyes, which put Octavia’s rapidly beating heart at ease. “We weren’t made for each other, and I think the universe knows that.” He paused for a long moment. “No one in my family has ever even met their soulmate. I was the first. I think we just… aren’t supposed to have romantic soulmates.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “I am very glad that I have you as a friend, Octavia. I wouldn’t want anything else.”

Her eyes welled with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that you… that you got stuck with _me_ , of all people.”

Lincoln shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not sorry at all. You’re a good person, Octavia, and I think that we’ll be very good friends. At least… I hope so.”

“I hope so too.” She smiled and leaned over, gripping Lincoln’s upper arm in thanks. She felt emotion well up within her (pity? grief? relief? sadness?). Octavia wiped at her eyes. “Why does this happen? Why do… why does the universe give you good people such a shitty deal?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Lincoln shook his head, “but I don’t exactly mind, either. I don’t think it’s a shitty deal. I like you a lot. I’m glad I get to be in your life.” He slid his hand over hers and squeezed, once. “No one knows how soulmates work. Maybe it’s just… the universe telling us that we’re meant to be in each other’s lives.”

“You haven’t… you haven’t told anyone else about this, right?”

Lincoln shook his head. “You’re the first to know.”

“And can you… can you not…?”

Lincoln reached out and grasped her hand. “I won’t tell Raven, or Clarke, or Lexa, or anyone. I won’t put you in that position.”

She breathed easier. “Thank you. It’s sort of hard to explain to your soulmate that you’re also someone else’s soulmate. And Clarke would… God I don’t know what Clarke would do. She’d probably start handing out wedding invitations tomorrow, if she knew.”

Lincoln smiled. “I know.  You don’t have to worry about that. Besides… I really don’t want to get on Raven’s bad side.”

Octavia laughed, her body slumping in relief. “Me either.”

He squeezed her hand again. “You’ll be okay, Octavia. And we’re okay too.”

When they stood a few minutes later, bags collected and preparing to walk back towards where Octavia lived, Lincoln pulled her into a tight hug. He leaned forward and kissed the crown of her head. “You’ll be just fine.”

The hug felt good – Lincoln was very strong and when he embraced her his huge arms engulfed her fully – but it didn’t feel like… it wasn’t the same as with Raven, and Octavia _knew_ that. She knew in her heart that she could never… Lincoln was a lovely man but he wasn’t Raven. He wasn’t _right_.

And he wasn’t meant to be.

But wrapped in Lincoln’s arms, face buried against his warm chest, she felt – maybe for the first time – that she really would be just fine.

**


	4. Chapter 4

Octavia and Lincoln climbed the stairs up towards her floor together. He laughed at her when she teased him about being a boxer. “Oh, like you’re any better? You hit stuff for fun too.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “I hit stuff for fun with _skill_ , Lincoln. There’s a difference. Anyone can beat the shit out of a hanging bag. Where’s the finesse… where’s the _fun_ in that?”

He shook his head, smile on his face. “So you think your way of fighting is better?”

“Krav Maga is what they teach in the Israeli military. It is literally designed to let you kill someone with your bare hands.”

Lincoln eyed her up and down, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this small girl – strong and angry though she may be – was capable of killing someone with her bare hands. “Well we should train together, sometime.”

Octavia smiled at him as she pushed the stairwell door open. “I go to that gym on 3rd every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Well maybe I could join you.”

Octavia raised her eyebrow at him, and shot back, “Well maybe you can.”

She had only taken a few steps forward, her eyes still trained on Lincoln, when movement in front of her caught her attention. Octavia’s head whipped around as she recognized a familiar flash of _red_ clothing. “Raven?” She asked, stopping in her tracks. Her mouth ran suddenly, inexplicably dry.

Raven, who sat against the wall opposite her apartment door – knees tucked into her chest and head perched on crossed arms – turned her head to the side, ears pricking up. “Octavia?”

“Yeah… yeah hi.” She took a breath and shook her head, fighting against the thousands of questions and apologies trying to work their way through her system. Then she remembered to say, “Lincoln’s here too.”

“Hi Raven,” his soft voice called.

Raven stood then, and her movements seemed slow and heavy, like she was exhaustedly trudging through thick sand. Octavia furtively glanced at her watch; it was almost 12:30 in the afternoon. How long had she _been_ here, leaning against a wall and waiting for Octavia to get back?

“Hi what… what are you doing here?” Octavia asked, trying to keep her tone light and force the panicked edge away from her words.

Raven shifted in front of her, and her fingers gripped her cane like a lifeline. “I wasn’t totally sure which door was yours, and I knocked on a few, but no one answered,” she said softly, gesturing with her hand across the hall. “I’ve only been here a few times and I never… I never got your actual room number, so I wasn’t sure…” She trailed off, and Octavia took a few steps forward, digging in her pockets for her keys. “I thought that you might be out so I thought… I wanted to make sure that I actually caught you.”

Octavia didn’t know what to say. The three of them stood there, in a tense and uncomfortable silence, until Lincoln, clearing his throat, said from behind her: “I’ll call you later, Octavia.” Octavia turned to look at him. His eyes were knowing and hopeful, and he shot her a furtive thumbs-up with a wink, mouthing, _“You’ve got this,”_ before he said, out loud, “It was really nice to see you, Raven.”

“Bye, Lincoln,” she said back to him, and Octavia gave him a halfhearted little wave and nod.

“You had the right door, by the way,” Octavia said as she unlocked her place and pushed in. “419.”

Raven nodded and followed Octavia inside. “I knew fourth floor for sure, on the right, and I guessed about thirty or so paces from the elevator…”

They stood in the entranceway facing each other (though Octavia supposed that Raven probably didn’t know that Octavia was staring at her so blatantly, trying to discern in every motion and in every facial expression exactly what Raven was thinking… what she was here to say…).

 “How are your knuckles?” Raven asked then, fingers tightening around the cane she still clutched to her chest.

Octavia glanced down and flexed them. “Not bad. Definitely could be worse. I’ve been training for like… ten years so a wall was really no match for me.”

That seemed to pique Raven’s interest. Her brow furrowed, just slightly, and she asked, “Training?”

“Oh yeah I do, umm… mixed martial arts? Like… fighting and boxing, kind of. Th–that’s what Lincoln and I were talking about when we walked up here. He fights too so we were talking about training together and making it a sort of regular thing, maybe.”

“Oh I thought…” Raven trailed off, her cheeks darkening just slightly.

Octavia frowned. “What did you think?”

“I thought maybe… I don’t know, it sounded kind of like a date, to me.”

Octavia laughed before she could stop herself. She immediately knew it was a mistake because Raven flushed harder and scowled, ever so slightly, rather than smile, and Octavia was quick to hasten, “Sorry no I didn’t mean… no, Lincoln and I aren’t going to be dating. Ever. Never ever.” She shook her head vehemently. “No. I’m sorry I laughed; I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off and took a breath to gather herself. “I’m sorry.”

Raven sighed, which seemed to make her body relax. Her shoulders slumped, but it really only served to make her seem _more_ exhausted, more tired and more worn-down. Octavia wondered if she had been able to sleep the night before, or if she had spent most of the night tossing and turning and feeling exhausted but also desperate.

“I’m sorry too.” Raven said, “I got… I don’t know. Defensive? Territorial?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did.”

Octavia’s brow furrowed in confusion even as her heart leapt, and she bit her lip to fight the smile that threatened to overtake her. “You got… territorial?”

Raven did not respond, but instead asked, “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

Octavia paused. “I didn’t… I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I didn’t really know what to say…”

Raven took a step forwards, and Octavia took an answering step backwards. Her heels clicked against the wall behind her, and she gulped. She wasn’t sure if Raven heard her, but if so Octavia’s fear did not halt her approach. “Why did you leave last night?”

Octavia flushed, but her eyes – which usually turned down towards her feet or hands when she was embarrassed – racked over Raven’s face, looking for… for _something_.

“I guess I was embarrassed,” Octavia whispered, gaze fixated on Raven’s upturned lips ( _Wait Raven was smiling?_ ). “And I wanted to give you space, to… decide if you still wanted to be friends with me.”

“That’s a load of bullshit and you know it.” Fuck, Octavia really could not lie to this girl. “Why did you actually leave?”

The truth spilled forth from Octavia’s mouth, unsolicited but unstoppable. “I was scared you didn’t feel the same. I thought you wouldn’t want to…” She took a breath, and changed her mind, instead saying, “I thought I was going to cry and I didn’t want you to… to be around, for that.”

“You’re such an idiot, Octavia.”

Octavia breathed deeply and dropped her head back to the wall behind her, closing her eyes wearily. “Yeah, I know.”

“You should have stayed.”

“I know that too.”

“You should have kissed me.”

“I kn– _what_?” Octavia’s eyes flew open and she stared at the girl in front of her, mouth agape and disbelieving.

Raven smirked, just a little, and bit her lip as her hand moved forward hesitantly. Her fingers brushed against Octavia’s arm (goosebumps erupted in their wake), and she said again, in a quieter voice, “You should have kissed me. That’s what I wanted you to do.” Octavia felt like she couldn’t breathe. “You still have feelings for me, don’t you?” Raven asked. “That didn’t change in one night?”

Octavia shook her head vigorously for a few seconds before her mouth caught up with her brain and she breathed out a shaky but sharp, “No. I mean… _Yes,_ I still have feelings for you.”

“So kiss me.”

“Wha–what, _now_?”

“ _Octavia_ ,” Raven admonished in a quiet voice. She had moved closer, closer, ever closer during the moments in which Octavia was too preoccupied with her sweating palms and thumping heart to know anything more. “Stop thinking,” Raven continued quietly, “stop asking. I’m telling you what I want.” A short pause. “So kiss me.”

Octavia bent forward, and when her lips slipped against Raven’s she had to fight back a satisfied moan as her eyes fluttered shut.

It wasn’t like… she didn’t see _fireworks_. Colors didn’t explode behind her eyes. It wasn’t like how they describe it in books or in movies.

But honestly, it was _better_.

Kissing Raven felt remarkably good, remarkably _right_. Her stomach swooped and her heart sang and when Raven slipped a hand up to cup the back of her neck, Octavia’s knees went weak.

When Raven pulled back to rest her forehead against Octavia’s, Octavia was shocked (though maybe she shouldn’t have been) to find that she was crying.

Raven felt the hot tears against her own face and kissed at Octavia’s cheeks, silently nosing against her neck, and she whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Ye–yeah,” Octavia replied lowly. She sniffed and blinked rapidly a few times, and as the tears stopped her face erupted into a wide, brilliant smile. “I’ve just… wanted to kiss you for a really, _really_ long time.”

Raven laughed and shook her head, and said, “Well you should have done it earlier,” before she kissed her again.

And yeah, she probably should have. But what mattered was that she was kissing her _now_ , and so Octavia didn’t say anything else.

**

 “So how’s your mystery girl doing, O?” Bellamy asked, leaning over the bar where he worked, elbows balanced on sticky wood.

Octavia blushed. “She’s hardly a _mystery_ girl… we’ve been dating almost a month.”

“Well I haven’t met her, so she’s a mystery to me.”

Octavia rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around her drink. “I actually like her a lot Bell, so I didn’t want you to meet her and scare her off.” She was kidding (mostly). She lifted her mug to her lips, drinking deeply.

Bellamy’s eyebrows rose, just slightly. “So things are getting serious, then?”

“Yea–yeah I think…” She nodded as she thought about it. “Yeah they are. At least they are for _me_.”

He frowned at her. “Not for her?”

She shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Bellamy nodded as he took a rag to the spot directly to Octavia’s left, brushing away crushed peanut shells and soaking up spilled beer. “Yeah I get that,” he said, scrubbing harder. “You wanna be with this girl but you still wanna be uncommitted if you ever meet your soulmate. Makes sense. That’s where I’m at with this girl right now, we —”

Octavia huffed. Her hands clenched against the edge of her stool as something deep within her chest told her, ‘ _You can’t let him think that.’_  “That’s not what I was talking about,” she said, shaking her head at him.

Bellamy shot her a look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it in any offensive way. You can still care about this girl, obviously, but I don’t blame either one of you for wanting to keep your options —”

“This isn’t about _options_ ,” Octavia growled, “I’m not… _biding my time_ with Raven until something better comes along. _Why_ do people keep saying that?”

He reached across the bar and put his hand on top of hers in an infuriating move of condescension. Octavia bit the inside of her cheek to stop from snapping at him. “Octavia,” he said lowly, imploringly, “you’re still _really_ young. You have plenty of time to meet —”

She yanked her hand away and glared at him. “Will you stop with all of that soulmate bullshit? Come on Bellamy you should know better. You can’t just keep… keep sitting around here _not_ dating seriously and _waiting_ for something to happen when you have no idea… Bellamy the _odds_ of you meeting —”

He laughed and shook his head, effectively silencing her. “Oh now you’re gonna get on my case for holding out hope?” He shrugged. “I want true love, Octavia. Sue me.” He winked at her. “You may have given up all hope but some of us —”

She flushed and cut him off quickly, “I didn’t say _that_ either.”

He let out an exasperated breath. “Then I have no idea what your deal is.”

Octavia opened and closed her mouth a few times, like a fish gasping for air (but instead gasping for words), before she finally shook her head and muttered, “I don’t have a deal. Sorry I was just… sorry. Classes have been really stressful,” she offered as a lame excuse with an accompanying grimace (it shouldn’t have worked because her brother knew her better than anyone and should have easily been able to see through her bullshit, but Bellamy accepted her reason with a smile none the less).

He snorted and ruffled her hair (she swatted his hand away), and joked, “Yeah I bet the life of an English major is really difficult.”

She lunged forward in a halfhearted attempt to punch him, but Bellamy laughed and dodged out of the way easily. She grumbled and wrapped her hands around her beer, slumping back down in her seat and taking a long and slow sip while Bellamy slid down the bar to exchange a few words with an old man with wavy hair and a scruffy beard. They spoke for a few moments and the man slid him some money before downing his beer and slipping out the door.

By the time Bellamy got back to her, Octavia had gulped down the remainder of her drink. Bellamy raised his eyebrow. “Slow down there speedy, it’s only three.”

Octavia rolled her eyes and said, “Sure thing, Mom,” but – though she had snapped at him sarcastically – she didn’t ask for a refill (and Bellamy didn’t offer her one).

He clapped his hands on the counter. “So when do I get to meet this girl?”

Octavia pulled a face. “I don’t know… I _wanted_ you to meet her, but if you’re going to be an ass…”

He laughed. “I won’t be an ass, I promise.” Octavia still looked skeptical (but they both knew she was just being difficult), and Bellamy pleaded harder, “Pleaassee Octavia? Pretty please? I wanna meet your girlfriend.”

She flushed. “She’s not officially my girlfriend.”

Now it was Bellamy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Are you dating other people?” Octavia shook her head. “Is she?” Another shake. “Then she’s your girlfriend. God it’s like you’re seventeen again.”

“See _this_ ,” she gestured between them, “this is exactly how I do _not_ want you to act around her.”

“I won’t; I won’t I promise,” He laughed. Octavia sighed and slumped forward in her seat. Bellamy grinned. “Does this mean I get to meet her?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Octavia sighed again. “ _Yes_ you can meet her. I just have to ask her and make sure she’s okay with meeting you.”

He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t she be? I am perfectly loveable. I make an excellent first impression.”

“You make a _terrible_ first impression.”

“I resent that implication.”

“Bell the first time you met Clarke she nearly broke your arm.”

“I was _fifteen_!”

**

Raven, as it turned out, was totally down to meet Bellamy.

“He’s your brother, Octavia. And you love him. He’s important. Of course I want to meet him,” she had said, and Octavia had flushed because… well because her dad was long gone and she didn’t have a _great_ relationship with her mother so Bellamy was basically all the family that she had, and so meeting Bellamy was pretty significant. He was her brother, but also one of her best friends. If Raven didn’t like him… if he didn’t like Raven… it would destroy her. And maybe Raven didn’t really understand the implications of the situation fully; but Clarke certainly did.

“She’s going to meet _Bellamy_?” Clarke asked when she told her, eyes wide and mouth open.

Octavia shifted on her feet and crossed her arms. “Yeah. So?”

Clarke blinked at her a few more times. “Just that… I mean this is _big_ , O. Like… _really_ big.”

“It’s not _that_ big,” Octavia denied, even though she _knew_ that it was.

Clarke shot her a disbelieving look. “Don’t even start with that. I know you, O.”

Octavia bit her lip and cleared her throat, sinking down to the couch and fiddling with the TV remote so that she would have an excuse not to look directly at Clarke. “I just… figured that it was time she met him.”

Clarke nodded and stared at her (Octavia refused to look back), and said, in a quiet and even tone, “I didn’t know things were that serious with the two of you.”

_That_ got Octavia’s attention.

Her head shot up and she looked at Clarke with thinly-disguised panic in her eyes. “It’s not… we haven’t… look please don’t talk to Lexa or Raven about this. It… it _isn’t_ that serious, not really, but I… She’s _special_ , Clarke. I don’t want to fuck it up. I don’t want to pressure her into thinking like… I’m gonna propose or profess my love for her or do something crazy like that. I just want her to meet my brother. That’s it.”

Clarke raised her hands defensively and backed off. “I won’t. Sorry.” There were a few tense moments between the two of them before Clarke cleared her throat and changed the subject. “So how did Bellamy take the news?”

“What, the news that I’m dating a woman?” Clarke nodded, and Octavia had to smile. “He was completely nice and also a giant asshole about it.”

“Sounds just like him.”

Octavia nodded. “Yeah, he said, ‘I’m happy you’re happy,’ and then in the same breath, ‘But you aren’t allowed to date any woman hotter than who I’m dating.’” Octavia shrugged. “All in all it could have been a lot worse. I mean, Bellamy’s friends with you and Lexa and Miller and Bryan, so if he suddenly decided he wasn’t okay with same-sex dating I would have whopped his ass into next week.”

Clarke laughed, “I would have helped.”

**

“Are you actually going to cook for them?” Clarke asked, leaning against the kitchen doorway as she stared at a bustling Octavia, who was busy pulling out plates and silverware from various locations.

Octavia shot her a look. “No I actually like them, Clarke.”

Clarke laughed. “Right, right, I forgot how hopeless you are.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk.”

Clarke arched an eyebrow. “It may surprise you to hear this but of the two of us Lexa is actually a worse cook. She can’t even manage breakfast. At least I can scramble some eggs.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “That’s quite the feat, Princess.”

“Do you need help setting the table or not?”

Octavia gestured at the pile of silverware and Clarke took that as her cue to start helping. “When are they supposed to get here?” She asked as she folded napkins carefully.

Octavia glanced at the clock on the microwave. “I told Bellamy seven but I told Raven six-thirty because I wanted to see her first.”

Clarke wiggled her eyebrows. “Wanted to make out for fifteen minutes before your brother showed up?” She teased.

Octavia flushed. _Yes_ , she thought. “No,” she said.

Clarke shot her a look that very clearly said, _You’re not fooling anyone,_ to which Octavia simply rolled her eyes and sneered.

Clarke smiled as she finished with the place settings. She walked over to the refrigerator and bent slightly at her waist in order to pull a beer from the bottom shelf. “Oh I forgot to ask…” she trailed off for a moment as she fumbled with the top (Octavia reached over and did it for her because _honestly Clarke, this isn’t that hard_ ). With a thankful smile, Clarke brought the bottle to her lips, and asked, “How did Bellamy take it when you told him that Raven’s blind?”

Octavia looked up, eyes wide and terrified and unblinking as they met Clarke’s. “Oh. _Fuck_.”

Clarke stared back at her in disbelief, setting the bottle down heavily on the counter. “You didn’t _tell_ him?”

“I didn’t even think about it! It didn’t even cross my mind; I didn’t think it would be a problem!”

“I don’t know if ‘problem’ is the right word but… I mean he’ll definitely be weird if you don’t tell him beforehand. Or at least… well if not for him you should probably tell him for Raven’s sake. You don’t want her to notice anything weird and think that it’s because Bellamy doesn’t like her.”

“Fuck. Fuck you’re right.” Octavia glanced at the clock. “How long do you think I have?”

Clarke looked too. “Is Raven usually on time?”

“She’s usually _early_.”

Clarke grimaced. “Five minutes?”

“ _Fuck_.” Octavia fumbled for her phone and dialed Bellamy’s number. No answer. “ _Fuck_ Bellamy, you asshole, pick up your phone.”

“He could be driving here,” Clarke offered sympathetically.

Octavia didn’t even bother to respond. She hit his contact information again. “Goddammit Bellamy pick _up_.”

_Hey, you’ve reached Bellamy. Sorry I can’t answer the phone right now, but if you —_

Octavia hung up angrily and tried again. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” she hissed, slamming her phone down into the table.

There was a knock at their door. Octavia and Clarke both stopped, stared at the door for several long moments, and then turned back to each other.

“Could be Lexa,” Clarke said uncertainly (she and Lexa planned to clear out of Clarke and Octavia’s apartment for the evening – something Octavia did not entirely agree with because two more people meant _two more buffers_ if things got awkward but whatever, they were allowed to have their own plans).

“Could be Raven,” Octavia shot back, standing on shaky legs and making her way to the door.

It was Lexa _and_ Raven. (Octavia really didn’t feel very good about being right. She hated this feeling, this uncomfortable clenching of dread in her stomach – something that she _never_ wanted to associate with Raven – because she was so very worried that she may be about to royally fuck everything up. She should have faith in Bellamy; she _should_. But he was her brother; she knew him well – probably better than anyone else.)

(She did not have faith in him.)

“Hello, Octavia,” Lexa said with a kind smile, slipping past her and into the room where she greeted Clarke with a soft kiss and a look that could melt the coldest of hearts (they were really pretty disgusting most of the time).

Raven’s smile widened when she realized who had answered the door. “Hey, O.” She said, brightly, and Octavia’s stomach settled just a little bit.

“Hey,” Octavia said back. “I’m gonna kiss you now, because you look absolutely stunning and I can’t help myself.”

Raven laughed as Octavia leant forwards and kissed her, softly and sweetly.

And fuck, Raven _did_ look stunning; she looked absolutely gorgeous. She wore red ( _of course, it’s always fucking red_ ), a dress that hugged her tightly around her torso but which flared out at the hip, loosely falling to an end just above her knees. Her wedges were black, and they put her just taller than Octavia (which was swoon-worthy in and of itself), and her hair fell in cascading waves over one shoulder, leaving the left side of her neck bare (Octavia longed to kiss it, to trace the skin with her tongue, but she refrained because Clarke and Lexa were _right there_ and they may not have any qualms about inappropriate sexual touching in front of people but Octavia certainly did).

“Come inside,” Octavia said when she had pulled away. She made sure to push the door open as wide as it would go so that Raven didn’t accidentally bump into it on her way inside, and it fell heavily shut behind her once she had cleared the threshold. “Raven that dress is… fuck, you really look amazing.”

Raven shot her a smile over her shoulder. “Thanks; Lexa picked it out.”

“You’re welcome Octavia!” Lexa’s voice called from the kitchen. (Octavia flipped her off through the open doorway. Lexa laughed.)

“Your brother hasn’t met his soulmate, has he?” Raven asked then, and Octavia was a little confused by the question, but she answered it anyways.

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Damn, then this dress is wasted on all of us.”

“Excuse you it is _not_ wasted on me!” Clarke called, her head poking out of the kitchen. She whistled, long and low, and said, “Damn Reyes, you look fucking _fantastic_.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to make out with?” Octavia shot her way with an accompanying glare.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Jealous, much?”

“Fuck off, Griffin.” Clarke pulled a face but disappeared back into the kitchen and to Lexa’s waiting laugh. “I’m sorry about her. I kind of wanted to be the only one to whistle at you tonight.”

Raven laughed, “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad the dress is good for someone.”

Octavia wondered if she should be offended by the implication. “What, it’s not good for me? Because let me tell you, Raven, it is _very_ good for me.”

Raven chuckled. “No, it’s just that… well Lexa says I look great in red.” She shrugged. “I was sort of hoping someone else would notice.”

_I notice_ , Octavia wanted to say.

But she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) say that, because to say it would be to indicate that she could see color, would be opening up a conversation she wasn’t sure she was ready to have, would mean explaining to Raven… to Clarke and Lexa… And she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do that. So instead she just laughed awkwardly and rubbed at the back of her neck. “Yeah.” Octavia took a breath, steadying herself for what needed to be done. “Raven before Bellamy gets here, I should probably —”

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Octavia shut her eyes tightly and tried not to groan. _Of course. Fucking of course._ This always happened to her. She turned her gaze to the sky and glared angrily. It was as if someone up there was really fucking determined to make her entire life more difficult.

Raven smirked. “Speak of the devil.”

Octavia smiled weakly, and when she opened the door she did so with shaking hands.

Bellamy grinned at her from the hallway. “I brought wine.” He held up both hands, bottles clenched tightly in either fist. “I wasn’t sure if Raven liked white or red more so I brought both. Not great stuff, mind you – I’m only a bartender I’m not rolling in dough – but it should do the trick.” He craned his neck, looking over her shoulder and into the apartment. “You redecorated!” He exclaimed brightly.

“That was all me!” Clarke’s voice called from the kitchen. She emerged with Lexa in tow, the two of them looking a little disheveled ( _making out in the kitchen Clarke, really?_ ) but not at all ashamed. “I did all of the decorating, obviously. Octavia’s been too busy with her girlfriend to even notice that we got a new couch. Isn’t that right, O?”

Octavia flushed and glared at Clarke. “I noticed the couch.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? When did I get it?”

Several long moments of silence. “Oh fuck you, Clarke.”

Bellamy roared with laughter. “Octavia let me in so I can hug these beautiful ladies.” Octavia rolled her eyes but stepped to the side, and Bellamy swept Clarke and Lexa into a giant hug (the bottles _clinked_ together behind their backs as his huge arms grabbed them fully). “Are you joining us for dinner?” He pulled back, looked down at the bottles in his hands, and frowned. “I don’t think I have enough wine but I’m sure we can raid Octavia’s store,” he glanced at her and winked. “You still drinking shitty vodka or have you upgraded?”

Octavia huffed and walked away from them. “Fuck all of you. This is why I didn’t want to do this.”

They all laughed, which really only served to annoy Octavia more.

“Sorry Bell,” Clarke said, “Lex and I have our own plans tonight. Wouldn’t want to detract from your evening.”

Octavia walked over to where Raven stood, smiling and leaning against the aforementioned couch. “You really didn’t notice that Clarke got a new one?” Raven asked teasingly, tapping the upholstery.

Octavia groaned. “Not you too.”

“Don’t worry; I think it’s cute.” Octavia colored and coughed once, fidgeting and rubbing at the back of her neck. Raven grinned wider. “You blushed, didn’t you?”

“No,” Octavia mumbled, but she smiled when Raven’s hand reached out and brushed against hers. She turned so that their palms could connect and their fingers could interlace. “I have a feeling this whole night is going to be a ‘let’s make fun of Octavia’ sort of evening.”

“But O you make it so _easy_ ,” Bellamy said from behind her, and Octavia turned to glare at him, keeping Raven’s hand in hers. “You must be Raven,” he said, smiling at her. He stuck a hand out in greeting. “It’s really nice to meet you; I’m Bellamy.”

Raven tilted her head up to match where his voice was coming from. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, smiling back. But she didn’t stick her hand out to meet his, and Bellamy glanced down at his own hand, a frown slipping just slightly onto his face.

Lexa laughed from behind him. “Bellamy wants to shake your hand, Raven,” she said with a bright lilt to her voice.

Raven laughed a little, too. “Oh, sorry,” she said, holding her hand out in front of her.

Bellamy slipped his hand into hers, and Octavia could see the exact moment when it struck him, when he realized Raven couldn’t see.

His eyebrows shot up, and he said a soft, quiet, “Oh,” as they shook hands. He stared at Raven for a long moment, not saying anything, before he turned his head and met Octavia’s eyes. His brow furrowed in moderate confusion, as if waiting for an explanation.

Octavia swallowed thickly and shook her head once, and hoped that her eyes conveyed to her brother, ‘ _We’ll talk later.’_ She hoped that he wouldn’t say anything, that he wouldn’t make this a big thing, that he wouldn’t…

Clarke clapped Bellamy on the back, which effectively startled him out of whatever thought process he was sinking into. His hand withdrew from Raven’s. Octavia tightened her grip on Raven’s other hand just slightly.

“Well we better be off.” Clarke smiled at Bellamy and then Octavia and then Raven. “You all be nice to Octavia tonight, yeah?”

Raven laughed. “No promises from me.”

Bellamy shook his head and blinked a few times before a slow but not totally hesitant grin slid onto his face. “I won’t promise either.”

Clarke shot Octavia a pointed look with a smile. _You’ll be fine,_ her eyes seemed to say.

Octavia could only hope that she was right.

**

Octavia and Bellamy muttered to each other by the door. Raven, from her place in the kitchen – running the wine glasses (she was pleasantly surprised to find that Octavia had wine glasses at all) under the tap – could hear that they were talking a little heatedly, but she couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying.

A few more words from Octavia, and then more from Bellamy. A long pause, a pointed sigh (Octavia?), and then, louder, “Yeah, I know. I’ll call you later, Bell.”

Bellamy then called into the apartment, “Raven it was lovely to meet you! Keep in touch, okay? Next time you all can come to my place and I’ll pretend like I cooked you dinner.”

Raven laughed and stuck her head out of the kitchen. “It was great to meet you too Bellamy. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Couldn’t if I tried.” Then there was a long pause, and Raven wasn’t sure what he was doing (hugging Octavia? Mouthing words to her? Communicating with hand gestures?) before he was out the door with one more quiet goodbye.

There was a thump against the door, and a long sigh, and Raven took a few steps towards where she knew Octavia must be (the thump was the sound of Octavia’s forehead collapsing against the front door).

“You didn’t tell your brother I couldn’t see, did you?”

Raven heard Octavia gulp from in front of her. The rustling sound of clothing as she turned around to face her. “No,” she said quietly, “I didn’t.”

“You’ve been freaking out about this all night, yeah? It’s why you kept talking all through dinner and why you wouldn’t shut up for a second?”

Octavia breathed out shakily. “Yeah, I guess so. I wanted – I want you guys to like each other. I didn’t want him to say anything that would stop you from liking each other.”

Raven shook her head and took a step forwards. “Where are you?” she asked, and Octavia was immediately in front of her, a gentle hand on her forearm. Raven wrapped her arms around Octavia’s waist. “Clarke didn’t tell you I was blind before you met me, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“And you were surprised, right? And you kept saying these weird things and getting flustered and you were embarrassed… but it was adorable. And yeah, you did and said some stuff that I didn’t like. But that didn’t change the way that I felt about you then, and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you now.” Raven had to duck her head slightly in order to press a kiss to the crown of Octavia’s head (she _loved_ being taller than her). Octavia burrowed her face into Raven’s neck and sighed, arms tightening where they wrapped around Raven’s shoulders. “Your brother was _fine_ tonight. He was pretty cool, actually. And yeah, he did and said some stuff that I didn’t love – and I’m sure you’ll give him a strict talking-to later – but that’s what people _do_ , O. They don’t know how to act around me until they get to know me. And if you had told Bellamy before he came over that I was blind, you have no guarantee that it would have gone any better than it did.”

“I know that,” Octavia mumbled into her neck, “I know. But… I don’t know I can’t help myself sometimes. I get freaked out, and anxious, and worried that someone’s going to be a dick to you and then I just…” She shook her head, and Raven felt the motion against her collar bone. “I don’t know.”

“People are always going to be dicks, Octavia. And people are always going to be weird when they meet me for the first time. You can’t change that, and neither can I.”

She took a step back then, detangling her body from Octavia’s and distancing herself.

Raven ran a hand through her hair. “I really like you, Octavia, I do. And I really, _really_ want to keep seeing you.”

A breath from in front of her. “I sense a ‘but’ at the end of this sentence and I don’t think that I like it.”

Raven smiled, just slightly, but she doubted it put Octavia very much at ease. “Not really a ‘but,’ more of an ‘and.’”

“Okay, yeah, tell me.”

“I really like you. I really want to keep seeing you. And I would _like_ to keep seeing you, and I plan on it, and if we’re going to keep seeing each other you’re going to have to stop treating my disability as something you need to protect me from.” She smiled again, to let Octavia know that she wasn’t really angry or upset, just that she was trying to communicate something important. “I think that we’re getting kind of serious, at this point. I hope that I’m not wrong?” Her voice tailed the end of the sentence up, turning it into a question.

“You aren’t.” Octavia said from in front of her.

Raven nodded. “Good. So, yeah, we’re getting serious, which means that we’re actively entering into a relationship… an _indefinite_ relationship.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

Raven laughed, before growing serious again. “Look… I’ve lived with this disability all my life, and I’m _going_ to live with it for the rest of my life. And yeah, okay I get where you’re coming from. It _sucks_ that people treat me differently, that they act differently around me than they do around other people, that they think that if they mouth words to each other I won’t know that they’re saying something about me, that they talk about how ‘inspiring’ I am or how I’m ‘so pretty for a blind person’ and I _hate_ it; I do.” She took a stabilizing breath and allowed the anger that had built so rapidly within her to dissipate. “But that’s the way my life is; that’s the way _people_ are. And I try to educate them, I try to speak to them about it, to tell them if they do something wrong, to explain why what they’re doing is offensive and unnecessary, if I have to. And I _love_ that you want to do that too. But it isn’t always easy; and it _isn’t_ something that I can just expect. People need to learn. They need to be taught. You’re still learning and you’ve known me almost a year. Fuck, _Lexa’s_ still learning too, and she’s known me since we were in _high school_.”

“Okay,” Octavia said quietly, “I know. That makes sense.”

“I really like you, Octavia. And I like that you’re protective and fierce and angry. But you can’t protect me from everything, okay?” A short pause. “And you don’t _need_ to protect me from everything.”

Octavia sighed quietly. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll work on it, I promise. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight.”

Raven shrugged. “Sometimes you’ll make me uncomfortable. Sometimes I’ll make you uncomfortable. I’ll tell you if you do something that really bothers me, and you do the same. It’s fine if things like this happen, as long as we talk about it afterwards.”

“Okay. Yes. I can do that, definitely.”

Raven smiled. “Good.” A quiet moment passed between them, until Raven said, teasingly, “You didn’t eat a whole lot tonight, did you?”

“Fuck no I was way too nervous. I could barely get anything down.”

Raven laughed. “Want to order a pizza? Pull on some sweatpants and watch a movie?”

“Yes please that sounds amazing.”

Raven bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Do you want to pick the movie?”

“Nah, we should pick something we can both enjoy. Want me to read you our options?”

“You don’t have to do that; we don’t need to watch something described. You can pick whatever.”

Octavia scoffed. “Nonsense. Besides I think I’m really getting used to this described-television thing. It’s like an awesome audiobook. I think I actually prefer it to the usual way.”

Raven laughed (and her heart fluttered because Octavia hadn’t said, “the normal way,” but rather, “the usual way;” like she knew that it hurt Raven for people to say that the way sighted people interact with the world is “normal,” implying that anything else is “abnormal”). “Well I’m glad you’re liking it,” she said.

“Yeah. Plus, I can make out with you without worrying about missing any of the important action. So that’s certainly a bonus.”

Raven bit her lip. “Go change. I’ll order the pizza.” Octavia’s footsteps moved away from her, towards her bedroom. Raven, suddenly remembering that she wanted to say something else, called out, “Wait, Octavia?”

Octavia was back in front of her in seconds. “Yeah?” She asked.

“Kiss me?” Raven could feel the smile on Octavia’s lips as their lips met slowly and deeply. When she pulled back, Raven said, “It’s kind of sweet that you forgot to tell Bellamy that I’m blind, that you didn’t even think about it… I mean you handled it in a pretty shitty way, but it was still sweet. I know you didn’t do it on purpose or anything but… it means a lot to me; probably more than I can say. So thank you.”

“You’re thanking me because I forgot to tell my brother that you’re blind?”

Raven shook her head. “I’m thanking you because you didn’t remember that it might be an issue. At least… at the beginning you didn’t.”

“Blame Clarke. She got me all flustered about it.”

Raven laughed. “I can blame Clarke if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It certainly will.”

Raven smirked. “Alright. Done. Now go put on some better clothes, and grab me a pair of leggings, will you?”

**

Raven insisted on cooking Octavia dinner. They had been going out for – give or take – three months when Lexa ventured the idea.

“Why haven’t you cooked for Octavia yet, Raven?”

Octavia’s head shot up from where it rested on Raven’s lap. She was laying there, eyes closed as Raven ran cool and comforting fingers through her hair. Clarke was working late — busy painting in her studio, Octavia thought, because she had been “struck by inspiration” (her words, not Octavia’s) last week and had barely slept or ate since then, just spent all of her time with messy hair and paint on her face — and so it was just the three of them: Raven and Octavia and Lexa and some rapidly cooling Thai food.

Octavia shot Lexa a skeptical look. “Can either of you cook? You literally never have food around here.”

Lexa laughed. “That’s because we eat it all. Raven’s an awesome cook.” She smiled. “You should cook for her sometime, Ray.”

Raven tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She hummed at the idea, not really appearing excited or put-out by it. “Yeah, sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like a good way for me to end up poisoned.” Octavia joked.

Lexa shook her head vehemently. “I know Clarke must have told you what a disaster I am in the kitchen, but seriously, without Raven we would have starved freshman year.”

Octavia cocked an eyebrow. “Oh really now?” She said in Raven’s direction.

Raven waved her off. “She’s exaggerating.”

Lexa shook her head again. “Raven’s being modest. Trust me, have her cook for you.”

Octavia figured she would have to twist Raven’s arm about it — either that or it would be teased but never really brought up again — but it seemed like Lexa had created a monster.

Octavia walked into Raven’s apartment one day a week later (Raven had slipped her the spare key about a fortnight prior, which made Octavia stutter and blush and kiss her soundly) and was immediately greeted with the smell of curry and with the intoxicating sounds of something fizzling.

She fought a grin as she ventured inside. “Raven?” She called out, but when she got no response she poked her head into the small kitchen.

Raven stood at the stove, hand held over a sizzling pan. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she had a streak of something – some red-ish spice – across her right cheek.

Octavia laughed at the picture, and Raven turned around, head cocked. “Octavia?”

“Yeah. Hey.” She glanced down Raven’s body again. “You look great right now.”

Raven frowned just a little (but she was still smiling). “Was that sarcastic?”

“Yes and no. You do look adorable.” She took a few steps forward. “Kiss hello?” She asked, and Raven nodded.

Octavia pecked her once, but when she pulled back Raven’s firm hand at the back of her neck brought her, laughing, back into another kiss. “You taste like curry,” Octavia laughed, and Raven grinned.

“Hope that’s a good thing.”

“Delicious.”

“Hey I’m glad you’re here. Can you help me watch this pot?” She gestured in the general direction of something to the left of the stove. “Let me know when the water’s boiling? I’m having trouble hearing over the sizzling of the other vegetables.”

“Yeah, not a problem. You have a beer for me?”

“In the fridge.”

Octavia smiled as she pulled the drink out. She fished around for a bottle opener, popped the top, and made sure to put it back exactly where she had found it. “You know when I first got here, I was worried someone had broken into your place. I’ve never been here when something’s been cooking before.”

“You thought someone broke into my place and started cooking?”

Octavia shrugged and took a sip of her beer. “Stranger things have happened.”

Raven laughed. “Not sure that they have.”

Octavia smiled and watched her for a few long moments. Raven was beautiful. She moved about the kitchen effortlessly (For the time being, at least. Octavia knew that that wasn’t always the case), her bare feet dancing against the hard wood.

God, she was beautiful.

“Oh, shit.” Raven exclaimed suddenly, alarmed. Octavia paused, bottle half-way to her mouth, suddenly worried she had done something wrong. She glanced at the pot but it still hadn’t boiled. “You aren’t allergic to anything are you?” Raven said, turning towards where Octavia stood. “I just remembered… I never asked and I don’t think you’ve mentioned it.”

Octavia smiled. “I’m allergic to bees, but unless you’re cooking with them I think we’re in good shape.”

“Oh thank god. For a second there I thought I might accidentally kill my girlfriend tonight.”

Octavia paused. Her stomach fluttered pleasantly and she had to swallow because her throat was suddenly and inexplicably dry. “…Girlfriend?” She tried to keep her voice even and natural, but she knew that it wasn’t; knew that it cracked on the end of the word; knew that her voice was higher than usual and definitely shakier.

Raven shot her a smile. “Yeah, that’s you.” A brief pause where she seemed to weigh her words. “Unless you didn’t want to be…?”

“No I…” Octavia was quick to interject, “I _do_ want to be.”

Raven smiled. “Good.” Another brief pause. “Are you watching that pot?”

“ _Fuck_. Sorry… it’s boiling.”

“I figured it was.”


	5. Chapter 5

Octavia rapped at Raven’s door, three sharp knocks with closed knuckles. She smiled and shifted the bundle she held in her arms.

“Raven? It’s me!” She called through the door. She could use her key but her hands were kind of full and she hadn’t told Raven that she was coming over — hadn’t called or given her any kind of warning whatsoever (because she wanted to surprise her) — and it was sort of rude to just barge into someone else’s apartment like that. So her key remained in her pocket.

The door was yanked open and Octavia’s wide smile slipped just a little into a more confused expression. “You okay?” She asked, eyeing Raven up and down.

Raven didn’t really look okay. She seemed flustered, her hair was a little out of place, and though she was home alone (Octavia had just left Lexa and Clarke at her apartment so she knew that Raven was alone) she had her dark glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

Raven asked, breathlessly, “What are you doing here?”

Octavia’s smile grew again and she shifted the flowers in her arms (the paper crinkled and the air of the hallway picked up the sweet floral scent and swept it into the brightly lit apartment — which was sort of weird because Raven never really bothered with the lights if it was just her at home — teasing at Raven’s nose).

“I brought you flowers. I wanted to surprise you… and we hadn’t talked about plans for today and Lexa said you were by yourself at your place so I thought I’d keep you company and maybe help you study.” When Raven didn’t respond, Octavia laughed and admitted, “Okay, _distract_ you from studying, more like.”

Raven smiled at her, but it was tight and pained and controlled, and Octavia was suddenly both very curious and very worried. “I didn’t know you were coming,” Raven said, and Octavia tilted her head, studying the woman in front of her.

“I didn’t tell you I was coming.” A short pause where all Raven did was shift where she stood. “Are you okay, Raven? You’re not hiding a secret girlfriend in there, are you?” Octavia teased, standing on her toes to try and peer over Raven’s shoulder.

“N–no I just —”

A woman, tall and blonde and beautiful, appeared behind Raven. She threw an arm around Raven’s shoulders and cocked a hip, arching an eyebrow as she stared Octavia down. Raven winced at the movement, at the touch ( _She didn’t ask_ , Octavia noted).

Octavia blinked at her, and then turned her head to Raven, and then back to the woman, and then back to Raven. “Secret girlfriend?” She asked, squinting suspiciously at this mysterious woman standing so close to her girlfriend (something deep in Octavia’s chest growled and she had to fight against the urge to snap, to possess, to snatch Raven back from this complete fucking _stranger_ who seemed so comfortable with Raven but who Octavia did not recognize).

The woman smirked. “Aw Raven, you haven’t told your friends about us?”

Raven scowled and ducked out from under the woman’s arm. “Octavia, this is Echo.” A pause as the two surveyed each other warily. “My sister,” she continued, when it seemed like the name wasn’t enough to spark recognition.

Octavia blinked, clearly surprised. “I didn’t know you had a sister,” she said before she could stop herself.

Echo smirked at her. “I didn’t know you had a…” she frowned at Octavia, “how do you two know each other?”

Octavia opened her mouth to say something – to explain, probably – but she paused before the words left her mouth. Echo clearly didn’t know about her, which meant Raven hadn’t told her sister that they were dating, which meant… _what_ did that mean? Maybe they weren’t close siblings; maybe Raven wasn’t ready to tell anyone about their relationship; maybe (and her heart clenched at the thought) she didn’t think things were serious enough between them to tell her sister; maybe her family didn’t know that she was interested in dating women, so Raven was hiding her relationship along with her sexuality.

“Octavia is my girlfriend,” Raven answered shortly, “we’re dating.”

If Echo was surprised she didn’t show it. “Does Mom know?”

“No I…” Raven huffed, in either frustration or desperation, Octavia couldn’t tell. “Can I talk to Octavia outside, for a second?”

“Go for it,” Echo said, her eyes never leaving Octavia’s face.

Raven slipped out the door and shut it firmly behind her.

“Woah,” Octavia said when they were alone, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah she… we aren’t close. She’s only twenty, she’s not in college, she still lives with my mom…” Raven took a shaky breath and wiped at her face, “Oh _shit_ my mom.”

“Your mom is here too?” Octavia asked, and something about this situation (the secrecy, maybe, the fact that she didn’t _know_ , that Raven hadn’t told her… hadn’t told her _family_ …) made her feel suddenly nauseous.

“Yeah she… she’s been trying to get together with me for a while. We don’t… spend a lot of time together. She’s a little…” Raven trailed off, and Octavia wasn’t sure if she was unable to find the words to adequately describe her mother, or just unwilling.

“Did you not… I mean, why didn’t…” Octavia took a breath, “Did you not want them to meet me?” There was a hurt in her voice, a sad twinge, because she didn’t _understand_ why Raven hadn’t told her family that they were together. Raven had met Bellamy officially over two months ago, and Octavia had never kept her relationship a secret from him. So why hadn’t Raven…?

“ _No_ ,” Raven’s voice was adamant, determined, “no that’s not what… No, Octavia. Of course I wanted – of course I _want_ them to meet you. I _do_. I guess I just… I didn’t really want you to meet them.”

“I don’t understand.”

Raven flushed and shifted on her feet (it was only then that Octavia noticed they were bare, with no socks or shoes of any kind). “My family is… God O, I don’t even know how to describe them to you. I want them to meet you because you’re so special and you’re really important to me, but they… I don’t know. I was worried, I guess. My mother hasn’t always… my disability isn’t the easiest thing for her to deal with. She’s… controlling, and overprotective, and she–she _loves_ me, she really does, I know that she does. But sometimes it’s… it’s hard for her to recognize that I’m not the same girl I was when I was young. That I’m not the little blind six-year-old banging into the walls in our house, that I’m not seventeen and tripping up stairs and breaking bones and…” Raven took a breath, and she looked upset, like she was about to cry.

Octavia took a step forwards and said, quietly, “Is it alright if I hug you?”

Raven opened up her arms and Octavia stepped into them, dropping the flowers at her feet.

She took a few shaky breaths against the fabric of Octavia’s dress, her toes slipping over the top of Octavia’s shoes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get upset.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Octavia murmured back. “I should have told you I was coming. Don’t worry about it; I’ll go and I’ll call you in a few hours and maybe we can get some ice cream or something.”

Raven shook her head and pulled back. “No. No don–don’t go. You’re here now, they’re right inside… come in and meet them.”

Octavia frowned, eyes narrowed in skepticism. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this for me; I can meet your family whenever.”

Raven shook her head. “No, no you should meet them now. Now is… now is a good time. It’s as good a time as any. You’re going to have to meet them sooner or later so… why not sooner?”

“Well… okay if you’re positive. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You aren’t making me uncomfortable. It’s actually kind of a relief. Echo is great and all but… she’s not really much in the way of a buffer between me and my mom.”

“Okay… but again, only if —”

“I want you there, Octavia. I do.” Raven reached out and slid her hand down Octavia’s arm until her fingers brushed the back of Octavia’s hand. She slid their hands together and gripped tightly. “So come inside with me?”

––

Octavia’s palms were sweating, and she knew that Raven could tell. Raven had to practically drag her forward into the living room. (And it wasn’t like she didn’t want to be here, because she _did_. But wanting to do something and actually having to do it were two very different things, and this was becoming increasingly apparent to Octavia as she was faced with the prospect of actually meeting her girlfriend’s mother and sister.)

The two women – Echo and another dark-haired woman who looked strikingly like Raven, if older, if more severe and with more greying hair – stopped their quiet murmuring when Octavia and Raven approached.

The older woman (Octavia searched for her name, struggling through backlogs of conversation before she finally remembered and settled on _Gina_ ) smiled politely at her before she turned her gaze to Raven. “Echo said you had a girlfriend, Raven.” A pause and a nod. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Octavia squeezed Raven’s hand reassuringly as she cleared her throat. “Uh…” Raven swallowed thickly, “I don’t know. It’s still pretty… pretty new, I guess.”

Gina looked between the two of them for a few seconds, her face open and waiting. “Well?” She said after a moment, “Where is she?”

Raven frowned, and Octavia squeezed her hand tighter. “I don’t… _what_?” Raven said, confused. She lifted their interlocked hands and Octavia raised her free one in an embarrassed little wave. “She’s right here. This is Octavia.”

Gina blinked and her mouth dropped open. A look of utter disbelief took over her face. She stared at Octavia for a few long moments, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that she was standing there. “But…” she floundered for a few moments, before finally saying, incredulously, “but you’re so _beautiful_.”

Octavia flushed and her stomach dropped and she had to swallow the angry words rising in her throat. _What the fuck was that supposed to mean_?

“ _Mom_ ,” Echo admonished softly, her eyes suddenly bright and sympathetic as they met Octavia’s, “you can’t just _say_ that.”

“No, no,” Gina was quick to hurry, standing and making her way forwards, grasping Octavia’s free hand in hers and shaking it vigorously. “No, no offense intended. You’re just very striking, and I was a little surprised, because Raven is…” she drifted off, but the implications of her words were loud and clear.

Octavia wanted to punch something.

“Raven is _what_?” She gritted out through clenched teeth.

Raven stood next to her, unmoving and silent. She let Octavia’s hand drop from hers but Octavia hardly noticed, such was the intensity of her fury.

“Oh you know…” Gina waved a hand, gesturing through the air madly. Finally, with a shrug, she said simply, “Blind.”

Octavia wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something, _hit_ something ( _Someone_ , her brain muttered vengefully). She wanted to yell at this woman, to scream, to say, “How fucking dare you?” and “You have no right” and “Have you even _seen_ your daughter?” but she didn’t. She _couldn’t_. This was Raven’s _mom_ , and… and she knew she couldn’t defend Raven from everything; knew that she couldn’t protect her from everything; knew that Raven was perfectly capable of fighting her own battles. And she was _trying_ to work on it, this… unconscious need she had to protect and save and help; trying to… to let these things go, to understand that not everyone was always going to be perfectly cognizant of what was good or right for Raven. She _knew_ this. She knew that it bothered Raven sometimes, that it made her feel like Octavia thought she was weak. But Raven _wasn’t_ weak, and just because Octavia _could_ defend her didn’t mean that she _needed_ to defend her.

So she knew that she shouldn’t say anything.

But the fury, the rage, the sheer _unfairness_ of the whole situation left a sour taste in her mouth.

Octavia turned her attention away from Gina and towards her girlfriend. Maybe if… maybe if Raven said something, gave some kind of indication… all she needed was a word, some kind of acknowledgement, and she would sweep the pair of them out of here and let the other two fuck right the hell off for all she cared. Just one word from Raven and they’d be gone, and they could grab take-out and camp out in Octavia’s bed and forget about mothers and sisters and families for the rest of the night.

But when she saw Raven’s face, she had to stop. Her anger left her as suddenly as it had arrived.

Raven was upset. Visibly upset. She was flustered but trying to pretend like she wasn’t – because she was strong and noble and proud and foolish – but Octavia could tell.

She longed to reach out, to slip her hand into Raven’s and squeeze tightly, to tell her, “I’m sorry that this is happening but I care about you and it doesn’t matter to me.” She wanted to say, “You’re strong and you deserve better than this.”

But Raven only smiled tightly in the direction of her mother and sister. She crossed her arms over her chest and her hands gripped her forearms in a vicelike hold. Her nose scrunched up, making the dark glasses on her face shift precariously (and Octavia _hated_ that Raven was wearing her glasses, hated that she felt like she had to – because she _never_ wore them anymore when it was just the two of them, and the fact that she was wearing them now…).

Gina, it seemed, couldn’t _stop talking_. “Well it’s just… well I’m very glad that you’re so beautiful, Octavia, but…” she narrowed her eyes and took in Octavia’s appearance (she suddenly very much wanted to pull down her dress, to run her fingers through her hair — why had she decided on braids today? They always made her look so _young_ ). “You aren’t trying to _get_ something from Raven, are you? She doesn’t have any money.”

Octavia glared as a snarl worked its way up her throat, causing her mouth to curve upwards unpleasantly. “I’m not trying to _steal_ from your daughter,” she hissed, “I’m just _dating_ her.”

“Well…” Gina took a breath and shifted slightly, “You must understand why I’m so… wary of this relationship.” She looked towards Raven, who still hadn’t said anything or even given very much indication that she was paying attention to what was happening around her (but she _was_ , Octavia _knew_ that she was, because she was _always_ paying attention). “It’s just a little suspicious, is all. A beautiful twenty-something entering into a full-time relationship with —”

“Can we not talk about this, please?” Echo asked, almost desperately, cutting off her mother before she could say anything else. “Come on let’s just… let’s just eat dinner and talk about… anything else. _Please_.” She looked to the three older women pleadingly.

Octavia would have been perfectly fine trading icy glances with Gina for the rest of the night, caught in a furious battle of passive-aggressive (or maybe fully-aggressive) exchanges, but Raven (sweet, caring Raven, always determined to forgive, always willing to give second and third and fourth chances) nodded too. “Yeah, that sounds good.” She took a breath. “Are you gonna let Echo have some wine tonight mami?”

This seemed to shake Gina from her staring contest with Octavia. “I don’t see why not. She’ll be twenty-one in a few months.”

Echo fist-pumped the air, and the tension seemed – for the moment – to dissipate.

Octavia felt sick and angry and hot and flushed.

Raven walked into the kitchen without touching her, without another word, and dread began to pile up inside of her now, too.

Had she done something wrong?

_Fuck_.

**

The door shut, and despite the fact that it was early evening, no noise filtered in from outside the windows, and the apartment felt empty and deserted. The sound of the creaking hinges echoed in the vast silence, the air of the room hanging uncomfortably thick – even though summer was still a few months away and so it wasn’t very humid at all.

Octavia let out a wavering breath and leaned her back against the door. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her buzzing nerves. She was just so… _God_ what was she supposed to do? What could she _say_ after… after all of that?

She was trembling, but whether it was with fear or anxiety or fury, she couldn’t quite tell, because her cheeks were flushed and her mouth was dry and her eyes were pricking with tears.

Where was the goddamn justice in Raven’s _mother_ saying… saying all of those…?

The sound of glass shattering in the kitchen spurred her from her reverie. Octavia blinked and frowned, immediately worried.

“Fuck,” Raven’s voice grunted from the otherwise empty kitchen, “fuck fuck fucking _shit_.”

Something else smashed, and Octavia’s feet flew her to the doorway faster than she thought possible.

What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Raven stood there, twinkling glass sparkling in fractured shards at her feet while in front of her, on the kitchen island, the remnants of her blue cup laid like bombed-out debris. Blood, sharp and crimson and harsh, dripped from the palm of Raven’s right hand, and Octavia felt a little nauseous, because she always associated Raven with _Red_ but she never wanted it to be like this.

“Raven… babe…” Octavia took a few tentative steps forward, and it was only then – only when she saw Raven’s cheeks glistening with the angry tears she was so ashamed of – that she crossed the remaining distance, gingerly stepping over the broken glass and skirting her girlfriend to grab the dishtowel from beside the sink. She ran it under the faucet, quickly soaking the material in warm water.

“Ray can I have your hand?” She asked – always checking, always making sure – and Raven nodded and held out her arm, head turned to the side and cheeks flushed with anger and wet with tears.

Octavia gripped her wrist and began to dab and wipe at the blood that was steadily streaming down, drip drip dripping on the floor and leaving a little pool of vibrant destruction below, in the reflection of the cracked glass.

“Are you okay?” Octavia whispered, now wrapping the cloth around the cut and applying pressure to it. “Can I help you out of the kitchen? I don’t want you to step on anything.”

Raven bit her lip, and she looked angry (or was it frustrated?) but she nodded and Octavia led her – gently, calmly, slowly – around the glass and into the living room. Raven sat, and Octavia rushed to where she knew the first aid kit was – in the lowest drawer to the right of the refrigerator – before she came back with gauze and tape.

As she sat and wrapped up the laceration to the best of her ability, she asked again, “Are you okay?”

And Raven still hadn’t stopped crying, but Octavia was fairly certain that the cut didn’t hurt _that_ badly (and Raven was _strong_ , so so strong, and she never let things like this hurt her and she _rarely_ cried). Raven worried her lip between her teeth and nodded.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Raven sighed and flexed her fingers to test the flexibility of the wrap (Lexa always did her bandages up too tightly but Octavia seemed to be able to do them perfectly). “The glass was by accident. I… my hands were shaking and it… it just slipped.” She ran a hand over her eyes, as if they were irritated by something (dust or tears or emotions). “The mug… that was sort of on purpose. I threw it after I dropped the glass.”

“Why’d you throw the mug?”

Raven laughed, but it was bitter and cold and did nothing to make Octavia feel any better about this situation. “It’s just… it’s all just so fucked up, O. I mean… _fuck_ my mom was right, wasn’t she?”

Octavia’s throat ran dry, but not because she was afraid, but rather because she was absolutely _furious_ , seething with rage, that Raven’s mother could dare to put these ideas into her head. “Your mother wasn’t right about _anything_ ,” she growled, firm and resolute.

But Raven shook her head. “Octavia you’re _smart_ and you’re _beautiful_ —”

“Hey I could be hideous… You don’t know for certain.” Octavia cut her off quickly.

Raven smiled a watery smile, tears once again pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You’re _not_ hideous.”

“Again, I would like to reiterate, I could be absolutely vile-looking, and you wouldn’t —”

“Octavia you can _see_.” Octavia fell silent and Raven turned away, hiding her face in embarrassment because she was sure she was about to _sob_ soon and she really didn’t want Octavia to have to see that (she was pretty sure she was an ugly crier, whatever Lexa said to the contrary). “You can see. You can see and you have to… you have to tend to my wounds like I’m a fucking _toddler_ and you have to lead me around the kitchen because I might step on broken glass, an–and…” her voice cracked and angry tears slipped ever faster down her face. Raven gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and exclaimed in a low and heated voice, “ _Fuck_ ,” because she was _really_ trying to get herself under control here, and Octavia was just sitting there, across from her, not saying a fucking _thing_ …

“Raven I… fuck…” she muttered, and she slid into the space next to Raven on the couch, and Raven – despite every thought in her head telling her to _turn away turn away_ – turned towards her and buried her face in the soft fabric of Octavia’s dress. Sobs wracked her body now, making her tremble and shake in Octavia’s arms, but Octavia only gripped her tighter, held her closer, and refused to let go.

“Raven I don’t care that…” and her voice was weak too and Raven could hear that her throat was clogged and she could tell that Octavia was probably crying above her, but she didn’t pull away, merely fisted the fabric where it bunched around Octavia’s waist and did not pull away. “I want to be with _you_ ,” Octavia whispered, “I want to be with you and just you. You have to… you _have_ to know that. No matter what your mother says I just…” She nuzzled her face into the crown of Raven’s head and placed a few soft, brushing kisses against her hair. She whispered, “You’re so beautiful. And your mom is _such_ an asshole for thinking that anything about this relationship would… that I would be trying to get something from you. That… that I would care less about you because you can’t see.”

Raven bit her lip and controlled her breathing and pulled away, just slightly, just enough so that her voice could escape. Her throat was rubbed red-raw, but she still managed to croak, “It has to bother you though.” She felt the shake of Octavia’s head. “No don’t… don’t do that; don’t dismiss this like it’s nothing.” Raven pulled away more fully now, but her hands stayed by Octavia’s waist and one of Octavia’s hands stayed threaded in her hair so that they were touching, connected physically even as Raven’s voice got harder and her face set more determinedly. “You can’t brush this off, O. It’s not… it _isn’t_ nothing. You’ve never dated a blind person before and… and look I know you say that it doesn’t bother you and I believe you… I believe you when you say that my being blind won’t stop you from wanting to date me but… but it _does_ bother you; I know that it does. It _has_ to… you have to at least be _thinking_ about it.”

“It’s not…” Octavia took a breath and shook herself and her fingers massaged at the back of Raven’s neck ever-so-softly (and that was a clever ploy – Octavia was clearly playing her – because Raven immediately relaxed under the ministrations), and she said, “Look it’s… it’s different, I won’t lie to you about that. And, yeah… yeah it gets hard sometimes.” Raven tilted her head downwards, but Octavia was quick to continue, “It doesn’t get hard because you do something that upsets me, or… or anything like that. I don’t just wake up in the morning and think, ‘ _Oh jeez, I have to go take care of the blind girl today_ ,’ like… Fuck Raven no _of course_ I don’t think like that.”

“Then what —?”

“Babe I so _do not_ want to fuck this up. Like… I don’t think I can express to you how truly I do not want to fuck up this relationship.” Octavia smiled and bent to press one soft kiss to Raven’s cheek. “I get worried, sometimes,” she whispered, “that… that I’m moving too quickly or that I’ll touch you without asking or… or that Bellamy will say something stupid to you or we’ll meet some asshole on the street and I’m gonna have to stop you from beating the shit out of him for insulting me or something…” Raven laughed at that, and Octavia leaned forward, ever so slightly, just close enough to bring their foreheads together. “I get worried because I don’t want to lose you. That’s all. Your mother was _wrong_ , Ray. She was so, _so_ wrong.”

Raven took a deep breath, and it shook on the way in and it shook on the way out. She brushed her nose against Octavia’s, breath ghosting against lips, and asked, quietly, “Are Lexa and Clarke gone for the night?”

Octavia nodded and Raven swore she heard a hitch in her breath when Octavia said, “Yeah they’re having date night and they asked that I ‘make myself scarce’ for the rest of the weekend.”

Raven bit her lip. “So we won’t be disturbed?”

This time she was _sure_ she heard the hitch in Octavia’s voice. “N–no we shouldn’t be.”

Raven leaned forward and claimed Octavia’s lips in a soft yet commanding kiss. Octavia whimpered and sank a little farther into the embrace. Raven’s teeth nipped at lips, tongue sweeping over tongue, and when Octavia pulled away minutes later they were both shaking and breathless and restless.

“Are you sure?” Octavia whispered, and she was almost positive that Raven must be able to hear the thundering in her chest, to feel her racing heart in the pulse of her neck, but then again she couldn’t be certain.

Raven’s forehead brushed hers as she nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Because I don’t mind waiting. If you want to —”

“Octavia,” Raven cut her off with a quiet plea, “take me to bed.”

And… well… like Octavia could refuse such a request.

She trailed after Raven, bare feet padding on hardwood floors, pulse racing and fingertips trembling.

She closed the door to Raven’s bedroom behind her and leaned against it, using the sturdy backing as support for her failing knees.

_Get it together Octavia,_ her brain hissed at her, _it’s not like you’ve never had sex before._

But she had never had sex with _Raven_ before; and this felt more important than anything she had ever done in her life.

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Raven asked with a smirk.

“I… sorry, I just…”

Raven shook her head, silent laughter playing at the edges of her features. She reached down and grasped the bottom of her t-shirt.

Octavia’s mouth ran dry.

Raven dragged the fabric slowly, slowly, slowly up her stomach, exposing tanned skin and toned muscle. When red lace revealed itself Octavia had to literally bite back a whimper.

Raven dropped the shirt to the ground and stood there, clad in a red bra ( _Red bright red_ her heart seemed to beat), jeans hugging hips, hanging low, hair loose around her shoulders and fuck—

“Fuck,” Octavia breathed, and Raven laughed at her (with her?).

“Do I have to do any more or are you going to get over here?”

Octavia shook herself and took several sure steps forward. Her hands hovered just barely apart from Raven’s sides. She looked down and saw that they were trembling. “Can I touch you?”

Raven bit her lip and nodded.

Octavia watched her hands come into contact with hot, flushed skin, and Raven practically melted into the touch.

Octavia slid her hands up, up, up, and she had felt all of this before (of course she had) but she hadn’t ever really _seen_ Raven like this, topless and flushed and asking for her touch. Her fingers met a metal clasp and she deftly (smoothly) unhooked the bra. Raven shrugged her shoulders and the material drifted to the floor, landing softly (and silently) between their feet.

Octavia’s breath hitched. Raven flushed.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” She whispered into the heavy air, and Raven nodded.

Her eyes looked up, almost meeting Octavia’s gaze but not quite. For one fleeting moment, as grey eyes met brown, Octavia thought that Raven might actually be looking _at_ her.

But then her eyes glanced away, unfocused on some spot over Octavia’s shoulder, and Octavia shook herself ( _Don’t be a fucking asshole,_ she thought _)_ and bent her head and captured Raven’s lips with bruising force.

Raven’s back arched under her hands as she craned her head, pushing her torso against Octavia’s as a whimper fought its way up the back of her throat.

She fisted the fabric of Octavia’s dress and slid her hands around back, sliding the zipper down silently (Octavia jumped a little when ice-like fingers began to dance down her spine and trace her ribs).

Raven pulled away just long enough to growl, “Off” at her and Octavia had to laugh, even as she trembled, even as she shook, and let Raven’s imploring and greedy hands strip her of her dress. It pooled around her feet, and Octavia stepped out of it, feeling at once over and underdressed. Goosebumps erupted along her skin as soon as it came into contact with the cool air (or maybe it was because of the way Raven’s tongue was battling with her own).

Raven’s palms slid over the newly-exposed flesh, slowly and devotedly feeling over the smooth skin of Octavia’s back, over her flat stomach, up each individual rib, until her thumb met rounded breast and paused, tracing the edge – the barest hint – of Octavia’s skin.

Octavia, bolstered by some unknown courage she was not aware she possessed, reached down and – with her mouth and tongue still deftly engaged with Raven’s – ever so gently nudged Raven’s hand and fingers up, up, until her thumb started circling pebbled skin, and Octavia gasped and arched her back and had to pull away and close her eyes because it all suddenly felt like too much.

Raven simply refocused her attention towards Octavia’s neck, and now her teeth nipped teasingly even as her tongue swept wickedly, and Octavia’s grip on her wrist tightened when Raven, using her thumb and forefinger, began to twist and pinch the sensitive nipple.

A soft, desperate whimper slipped through her clenched teeth (and Raven heard because she was like a freaking _superhero_ when it came to being able to hear all of Octavia’s embarrassing shit) and that whimper turned into a full-fledged moan when Raven’s mouth slipped lower, lower, tongue tracing patterns all the way down down down until she wrapped her lips around Octavia’s other breast.

“Ah… Raven…” Octavia hissed, but words soon failed her.

Raven’s tongue began to flick a furious rhythm, and her thumb mirrored the tempo on the other side of Octavia’s body, and Octavia could only fight for breath as her legs wobbled and sharp flashes of arousal shot straight to her core. One hand clawed at Raven’s exposed shoulder, biting into the skin there, while the other wrapped into her girlfriend’s dark hair and tried to pull her closer, ever closer.

When Raven’s teeth scraped tauntingly against her already sensitive nipple, Octavia almost shrieked.

“Fuck… fuck we have to be on the bed. Like… now.”

They tripped and stumbled but managed to make it there in one piece. Along the way, Octavia slid her hands under the waistband of Raven’s pants, flicked open the button, and was now urging the jeans down curved hips and smooth legs. Raven kicked out of them, leaving her in just her underwear ( _Fuck_ , Octavia’s brain supplied unhelpfully and inarticulately) and Octavia used that moment of imbalance to slip one arm behind Raven’s back and another right underneath her thighs and tilted forward.

Gravity did most of the work for her, but she used her strength to slow Raven’s fall so that they didn’t _crash_ to the bed so much as _arrive_ there.

Raven was a little breathless (and Octavia was _very_ pleased), and Raven’s laughing voice managed, breathily, “Very smooth.”

“Thanks,” Octavia whispered back, ducking her head to kiss Raven again. She used one arm to brace herself, to keep all of her weight from collapsing onto Raven’s prone form and crushing her, while the other traveled up and down the length of Raven’s thigh – not exactly _innocent_ but not exactly _forward_ , either. Every time she glanced against the fabric of Raven’s underwear the body below her shuddered, but Octavia didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to hurry, and so kept her movements slow and kept her kisses languid.

One of Raven’s hands slid around the back of her neck, fingers teasing at Octavia’s hairline, distracting Octavia just enough that when Raven’s tongue brushed into her mouth she was not expecting it.

She shifted, fitting herself more securely between Raven’s legs and slotting their hips together (Raven arched; Octavia shivered).

Then, with a sudden and shocking jolt, Raven pushed upward, twisting, catching Octavia completely by surprise.

The next thing she knew she was below Raven’s smirking face. Her hair fanned out underneath her and one of Raven’s soft legs was wedged between her own, knee providing delicious (and teasing) pressure that Octavia couldn’t help but arch into.

“Now _that_ was fucking smooth,” she said, her voice low but undeniably impressed.

Raven laughed. “Take your underwear off,” her low voice commanded, and Octavia quaked and felt a flood of arousal drip out of her core as her muscles clenched around nothing.

She obeyed quickly.

“I wanna taste you,” Raven whispered into her ear, and for the first time that night Octavia lost all of the breath that had been trapped in her lungs with a forceful _whoosh_.

Raven’s hand slid down her body (Octavia knew that her stomach was trembling but she hoped that Raven wouldn’t notice) until her fingertips brushed against a warm wetness, and Octavia’s hips bucked up towards her hand involuntarily. Raven’s lips attached to her neck for a long moment but her hand did not move, frozen tantalizingly close to where Octavia need her _desperately_.

“God Raven plea–please.”

Her hand stayed where it was, but Raven began her slow descent down Octavia’s body, lips and teeth and tongue stopping to focus on random patches of torso (beneath Octavia’s right breast – where Raven sucked so hard it had Octavia _writhing_ ; right above her navel – where Raven’s tongue dipped and danced while Octavia squirmed; on her left hip – a bite that Octavia swore almost broke skin but _God_ she was so greedy for it).

When her breath ghosted over Octavia’s center she almost fell apart completely. Her hips jerked, but Raven’s strong hands forced her back to the bed.

Octavia’s thighs trembled and the muscles of her legs jumped beneath Raven’s palms.

When Raven’s warm tongue touched her for the first time, Octavia squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she saw spots (red and green and blue and yellow).

Raven’s tongue licked slowly along the length of her core, and Octavia gasped and dripped and shook. She flicked once, teasingly, against Octavia’s clit (another gasp) before she pulled back, against much protest.

“No no no don’t stop.” Octavia sat up, her hand going down to tangle in Raven’s hair. “Please don’t stop.”

Raven smirked and shook her head. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered.

Octavia’s heart clenched. “Wh–what?”

“You have to tell me what you want. I can’t see you, so I need you to talk to me. Tell me what you want, what you like, what feels good. Tell me ‘stop’ or tell me ‘yes’ or tell me ‘more’ but you have to talk to me.” Her fingers slid down, pressed achingly against Octavia’s cunt, and _god_ did she want them.

“Can… can you…?” Octavia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, stealing herself. She’s never been very vocal in bed, never been much of a talker, but _fuck_ if the idea didn’t send tremors to her body. The more she thought about it, tasted the words and tested them on her tongue, the more she thought that, yeah, she could really get behind this whole ‘talking in bed’ thing.

So she took a breath and said, “I want your fingers inside me.”

Raven pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her hip. “How many?”

“T–two. Maybe three. I might be wet enough for three.”

Raven let out a breath. “We’ll start with two.”

When they pressed inside of her, Octavia gasped. “Ah!” She exclaimed, falling back onto the bed as her back arched.

Raven’s fingers pumped in and out of her, steady, steady, steady, slow and sure but also teasing. “Fuck babe _faster_.” Octavia muttered, head thrown back.

Raven obliged and quirked her fingers up, brushing against a spot on the front of Octavia’s walls that had her _writhing_.

“Ah yo–your mouth, too, _please_ …” the last word was a moan, low and desperate, and when Raven’s mouth latched onto Octavia’s clit, sucking it lightly into her mouth, Octavia’s hips bucked and her hand fisted into Raven’s hair, drawing her closer closer closer.

She could feel her orgasm building, could feel the waves rearing up inside of her, could feel the desperation inside of her chest and inside of her cunt when her muscles started fluttering and clutching at Raven’s fingers.

All it took was a few deliberate flicks of Raven’s tongue, and then – unexpectedly – a third finger pressing inside of her, stretching her deliciously, and with a scream and a yelp and a cry of, “Fuck, Raven,” and Octavia was done for.

Her orgasm tore through her body, making her hips jump violently and making her jaw clench as she practically _flooded_ Raven’s hand and mouth and tongue.

Octavia’s body slumped as all the tension in her muscles released at the same time. She struggled for breath as Raven slid back up her body, leaving feather-light kisses at random intervals, her chin glistening went with the remnants of Octavia’s pleasure.

“Fuck I don’t think I’ve ever come so fast.”

Raven smirked and kissed at her jaw, teeth nipping lightly. Octavia preened into the touch. “That’s a good thing, yeah?”

“ _Fuck yes_.” Octavia rolled over and stared at her girlfriend, still fighting the foggy post-orgasm glow that was threatening to take her. She frowned as she observed Raven’s appearance. “You’re still wearing clothes.”

“You sort of got distracted when you were taking them off.”

Octavia blushed. “Well so did _you_.”

Raven arched an eyebrow. “You gonna do something about it?”

Octavia grinned and surged forward, claiming Raven’s lips with her own as she slipped her hand down the front of her underwear.

**

“I don’t want you to second-guess this relationship,” Octavia whispered into the cool darkness. Raven shifted next to her and rolled so that they were facing each other. “I’m all-in, babe, I… I never want you to think that I’ll just up and leave if it gets hard or if we have a fight or something. Because… I’m not that person, Ray; I’m _not_.”

Raven slid forward and slipped her arms around Octavia’s waist. She tucked her head under Octavia’s, and her lips traced soft and lazy patterns against the sharp bare collarbone of her companion.

“I know you aren’t that person,” she whispered, and Octavia’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, holding her tight and close. “But it’s going… I’m going to have these feelings, Octavia. It… it’s hard not to. After, you know… after Finn.”

“I’m not Finn,” she whispered.

“I know, O, I do but… It’s hard to let go of… I mean I loved him. And he broke my heart.” A vice captured Octavia’s stomach and squeezed and squeezed until it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Raven could tell. She shifted again, turned her face up to nip at the underside of Octavia’s chin. “Are you okay? Where did you just go?”

Octavia swallowed thickly, and when she spoke, her words came out shaky but complete. “I’m not going to break your heart.”

Raven kissed her neck, then her jaw, and then finally craned her neck and continued the feather-soft motion onto Octavia’s lips. When she pulled away she was smiling sadly. “You shouldn’t make promises like that.”

“Raven I’m serio —”

“I don’t need you to promise me that you’ll never break my heart, Octavia. I know that you can’t promise that, not… not really.”

“I won’t just —”

“If you’re going to promise something,” Raven interrupted, “promise me that you’re never going to _try_ to break my heart.” Octavia looked up at her, eyes wide and searching. Raven slid a hand up bare skin until she cupped Octavia’s cheek, her thumb brushing against the corners of lips. “Is that a fine promise to make?”

Octavia nodded, and Raven felt it, and this time when she smiled it was more genuine, and when she bent her head to capture Octavia’s mouth with her own, she figured that the tremor on Octavia’s lips was due to the lingering effects of her orgasm and not something else.

(It was something else.)

**

When Octavia blinked her bleary eyes open the following morning she had to laugh, because Raven was sprawled out on her stomach, taking over practically the entire bed. Her hair was a mess – like an angry, tangled bird’s nest on the top of her head – and her mouth was open just slightly. She breathed deeply, legs kicked out behind her but left arm loosely wrapped around Octavia’s hips.

Raven stirred at the sound, groaning as she arched her back, bones popping and muscles straining.  She rubbed at her mouth and turned her head towards Octavia’s face, but kept her eyes closed. “What?” She grumbled, and Octavia had to grin, because she _knew_ that Raven was not a morning person but she had never gotten to see it before and it was absolutely _amazing_.

Octavia bent over and pressed a sloppy kiss to Raven’s cheek that made the other girl grimace (but blush) and Raven swatted at her even as Octavia pulled back with a laugh.

“Don’t… I’m gross…” She whined, but Octavia thought that nothing had ever been further from the truth.

“You look amazing right now. Truly exquisite. You must let me paint you.” Octavia teased and flopped back down, throwing one of her legs around Raven’s.

Raven grumbled again but did not try to get Octavia off of her. “And to think I was going to make you coffee this morning. Well you can forget about it now.” Octavia nuzzled her nose into Raven’s cheek and kissed her softly. “Octavia no,” she laughed, “my breath probably smells terrible,” she half-fought, but sank into a second kiss when Octavia pressed one to her mouth (but she kept her lips closed and that was probably for the best).

“I’m gonna make pancakes,” Octavia declared.

Raven made a face. “ _You’re_ going to cook?”

“Excuse you I am a twenty-one-year-old woman; I am perfectly capable of making pancakes from a mix.”

Raven shook her head. “Good luck finding a mix anywhere in this place. Lexa can’t cook to save her life and I never buy boxed things because I can’t read the directions anyways.”

Octavia frowned. “Well I guess I _could_ try scratch.”

Raven laughed again and rolled over, torso bare and completely unabashed by her own nakedness. Octavia blushed and tried to look away (she really did) but gave up after a few seconds and instead drank in the sight of her topless girlfriend hungrily. “Let’s just go out to eat, O. It’ll make both of our lives a whole lot easier.”

Octavia shook herself. No, she was determined. “Nope. I’m making you breakfast. If not pancakes, I’m sure you have eggs. You _do_ have eggs, right?”

Raven bit her lip. “Yes we have eggs.”

“Okay then, eggs. And coffee. And toast.”

“You really don’t have to —”

“I _insist_. After all the orgasms you gave me last night the very least I can do is attempt to cook for you.”

Raven fought back a chuckle. “Well okay then. But I’m Hispanic, so be warned, I like my eggs spicy.”

“Okay, spicy. I can do spicy.” Octavia bent down and smacked another kiss to Raven’s laughing lips. “Go shower. When you’re out the food will be ready.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Octavia slipped from the warm sheets and padded over to Raven’s dresser. She opened up the underwear drawer and pulled on the first pair she came to, and then grabbed an oversized flannel from the closet.

She pulled it on and began to button it as she left the room, but she paused in the doorway and glanced back.

Raven was still in the middle of the bed, eyes shut and a small, contented smile on her lips. She was completely naked, but the sheets had (in)conveniently remained on her lower body throughout the night, so that she was only visible from the waist up, but… _God_ what a sight it was.

There she was in the bed, all dark, messy hair illuminated by soft golden light filtering in from outside (Octavia glanced out the window and figured it couldn’t be much later than 10). She looked fucking luminous.

“Why’d you stop?” Raven asked without moving.

Octavia smiled. “You just looked really beautiful. I guess I got distracted.”

Raven laughed and grabbed one of the pillows below her head and chucked it in the general direction of the door (Octavia dodged it easily). “Get out of here and make me breakfast, woman. You’re being disgusting.”

Octavia slipped from the room and called over her shoulder, “Take a shower!” and she felt like humming and skipping and dancing across the floor because _fuck_ she was so, _so_ happy.

She heard the shower turn on as she was cracking eggs over the hot stove (eggs _and_ a frying pan; must be her lucky day).

She hummed under her breath and bit her lip as she thought of the stunning woman in the other room and… Jesus Christ if she had known that _this_ is what it felt like to actually be with your soulmate she would have put a lot more stock in the whole ‘true love and destiny’ thing when she was younger. Maybe Bellamy – as annoying as he was – was onto something with his whole romantic notion of ‘ _holding out for the one_.’

Because this? This was unreal; this was… this was _unfathomable_ to her two years ago… even _six months_ ago. She didn’t know it was possible for a person to _be_ this happy.

So lost in thought was she that she did not hear the jingle of keys in the front door, nor the soft footfalls of boots making their way through the corridor.

“ _Oh_ …” A startled voice said from behind her, “You…” Octavia spun on her heels, spatula gripped uselessly in front of her, brandished almost like a weapon, “you’re not Raven.”

Echo stood in the kitchen doorway, keys grasped in her fingers, eyeing Octavia up and down like she didn’t quite know what to make of her. Octavia flushed and shoved her fingers through her messy hair even as she tried to pull the shirt just a little lower down her thighs.

“Raven’s in the shower,” she supplied, and Echo nodded but continued to stare her down (not hostilely or rudely, not exactly; but also certainly not welcoming). Octavia cleared her throat and shifted on her feet. “Also… sorry not to be rude but what are you doing here?”

Echo raised her left hand, and it was only then that Octavia noticed the bottle of tequila she had clutched in her fist.

She arched an eyebrow. “How’d you get that? Aren’t you twenty?”

Echo rolled her eyes. “Please. I have a fake.”

Octavia eyed the bottle and the woman presenting it to her. “Isn’t it a little early for tequila, maybe?”

“It’s an apology, for last night.” Echo stepped forward and placed the bottle on the kitchen counter. “It’s for both of you, really. What Gina did was really… it wasn’t cool. And I’m sorry.” Octavia nodded once but didn’t move forward to take the offering. Echo glanced over Octavia’s shoulder. “Your eggs are done,” she said, and Octavia turned to deal with the food, letting a tense silence fall between the pair of them.

Octavia bit her lip and fought against her innate desire to be an _evil bitch_ to this girl and said, through gritted teeth, “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“No that’s alright; I’m not staying.”

The food, once plated, was placed on the island. Octavia turned and started to scrub at the dirty pan just so she didn’t have to stop and look at Echo. At least when she was cleaning she had something to do with her hands.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Octavia’s fist flexed uselessly at her side. “That’s not it.”

“Oh really?” Echo sounded skeptical, and rightfully so, because Octavia really _didn’t_ like her all that much. “Because you look like you’re just dying to hit me.”

Octavia turned around and leaned against the sink, crossing her arms over her chest. Jaw tight, she stared Echo down, and said, “It just would have been nice if you could have said something last night. Your apology is great and all, but what you did last night… or what you _didn’t_ do, what you let your _mom_ do… that hurt Raven. A lot. It just would have been nice if you could have stood up for her when it mattered.”

Echo arched an eyebrow and regarded her coolly. “All due respect, but you really don’t have any idea what my family is like.”

“All due respect,” Octavia shot back, “but I don’t give a _fuck_ what your family is like. I give a fuck about Raven, and you were a shitty person last night. So… yeah I guess you’re right, I guess I don’t really like you. But you’re Raven’s sister and _she_ loves you, which is why I’m not hitting you right now.”

Echo smirked. “You’re more protective than the last one, I’ll give you that.”

Fury bubbled in Octavia’s stomach, low and hot and angry, and she fought a snarl. She opened her mouth to say something back, but never got the chance.

Raven appeared in the doorway like an apparition, smiling as she towel-dried her hair, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a baggy t-shirt and no socks and no bra.

Octavia’s anger melted away just as quickly as it had risen.

“Hey babe, your sister’s here.”

“Hey Raven.”

Raven paused in the doorway and her smile dropped a little but it didn’t disappear – unbridled happiness replaced with polite interest.

“Oh. Hey.” She took a few more steps into the room and let the towel dangle from her hand and drag along the floor. Her hair, dark and wet and just a little wavy, cascaded over one shoulder. Octavia could see cold little droplets of water clinging to the ends of the strands, teetering on the brink of plummeting to the ground. “What are you doing here?” Raven asked.

Echo spoke clearly, hands at her side – without useless gestures – offering, “Brought you some tequila. Figured you could use it.”

Raven smiled and nodded. “Thanks. Did you want to stay for breakfast?”

Echo shook her head and said at the same time, “No that’s okay I was just about to leave. Just thought I’d swing by for a minute, see how you were doing.” Her eyes flashed to Octavia’s for just a moment, “But it looks like everything is good here.”

Raven nodded. “Yeah, it is.” A quiet pause, and then, “I’ll call you? We can get dinner soon.”

Echo nodded while saying, “Yeah I’d like that. I’ll see you around Raven.”

And just like that she was gone, slipping from the room like a ghost who was never even there (Octavia barely even heard the door open and close behind her as she left the apartment).

Raven’s smile grew. “Well I don’t smell anything burnt.”

Octavia had to shake herself to come back to the moment. “What?”

“Eggs, right? You didn’t burn them.”

“Oh…” Octavia glanced down at the cooling food in front of her, “Oh! Yeah, right, sorry. I got distracted. There are two plates on the island and you can have either. Let me grab you a fork.”

Raven found the stool and pulled it back, sliding her body into place on top of it. As she walked around the counter, Octavia bent and lightly pried the damp towel from Raven’s grip. She folded it quickly, hung it out to dry (for the time being) over the sink, and pushed one of the plates of food towards Raven, who smiled in thanks before she took a bite. “Could be spicier,” she teased, but Octavia – who would usually banter back – did not engage. And Raven noticed. She paused, fork half-way to her mouth and head tilted to the side. “Hey are you okay? What made you go all quiet?”

Octavia shook her head and slipped into the adjacent seat. “It’s nothing, really just…” Raven turned her head to the side so that her torso was square with Octavia’s body. “You don’t think that that was weird? That your sister just… showed up at your place at 10:30 in the morning with a bottle of tequila and a shitty apology?”

Raven shrugged. “That’s just what Echo does. She apologizes with booze and sometimes Chinese food but she’s not great with her words.”

Octavia hummed low in her throat, thoughtful and curious. “But that just… she’s always been like that?”

Raven turned back to her food, head bent forwards and shoulders hitched up just a little. “She had a pretty rough childhood.”

Octavia frowned. “And you didn’t?” Raven’s head whipped towards her, and Octavia was quick to clarify, “No not… I wasn’t talking about being blind I just meant… she had a rough childhood but you didn’t? I thought you grew up together.”

Raven was quiet for a moment, and Octavia could see in the scrunch of her forehead and in the tension of her shoulders that she was weighing her words, trying to decide what to say.

“Echo isn’t really my sister.”

Octavia blinked. “I thought you said —”

“I mean she _is_ my sister, like… we grew up together, my mom raised both of us, we shared clothes and a bedroom and a bathroom and everything. But my mom didn’t give birth to Echo. Technically she’s my cousin.” Well… Octavia hadn’t expected _that_. “My aunt was her bio-mom. But she… she had some issues. And say what you will about my mother – and I _know_ you have plenty to say, Octavia – but she wasn’t like Echo’s mom. Like… Gina is definitely overbearing and pretty tactless but at least she’s not a drug-addicted child abuser.”

Octavia blinked, at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, “I didn’t know.”

Raven shrugged again. “I never told you. So how could you know?”

“Still I…” Octavia pushed a hand through her hair, “Well I think I definitely said some stuff to her that was over the line.”

Raven shook her head and said with a slight smile, “I doubt it. You’re not _that_ mean, and Echo’s had worse, and honestly… she’s kind of a bitch, so she probably deserved it.”

Octavia wheezed out a relieved laugh. “Yeah… maybe.”

Raven frowned and bit her lip. She slid her hand across the cold stone of the counter until her fingers bumped into Octavia’s. She slid her hand up, interlocking their fingers. “This didn’t make you feel weird, did it? I probably should have told you what the deal was before they —”

“No, no you didn’t have any obligation to…” Octavia shook her head and flipped her hand so that she could grip Raven’s. She ran her thumb along Raven’s palm, tickling light circles into soft skin. She brought their linked hands up to her mouth and pressed a light kiss to Raven’s palm. “I made an assumption and it was wrong. I’m trying not to do that so much, lately.”

Raven grinned. “A wise notion.”

“I agree.” Octavia glanced down at the food and frowned. “I think your eggs have gone cold.”

“That’s okay, I’m not that hungry anyways.”

Octavia gasped. “And after I spent so long… my blood, sweat, and tears went into these eggs, and you’re just going to cast them aside like —”

Raven kissed her, which was a pretty effective silencing technique (she was learning, and that definitely pleased Octavia to no end). Raven’s free hand dropped down to Octavia’s knee and slid up, higher and higher as their kiss continued, until Raven’s fingers brushed the band of Octavia’s underwear.

Raven pulled away and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

Octavia frowned. “What is it?” She asked, glancing down to where Raven’s hand lay on her bare thigh. “Did I —?”

“Have you not been wearing pants this _whole time_?” Raven asked, incredulous.

Octavia grimaced. “…Yes?”

Raven smacked her on the thigh, and Octavia yelped. “My sister was here!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” Octavia defended.

Raven laughed and kissed her again. “Oh man this is totally not fair,” her fingers traced up and down the exposed skin of Octavia’s leg and Octavia shivered. “You have to tell me next time you’re walking around my apartment while you’re wearing my shirt and nothing else, okay?”

Octavia smiled and kissed her back. “Yeah okay… I can do that.”

Raven smirked and stood from her stool, leaning her body into Octavia’s. Octavia had to bend her neck pretty far back – just to the brink of discomfort – to keep their lips connected but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly Raven pulled back. Octavia started to ask, “Did you want to —?” But then Raven sank to her knees and Octavia had to fling a hand out behind her to catch herself because… “Oh _fuck_ ,” she muttered as Raven’s hot tongue started tracing up her inner thigh. She spread her legs wider. “ _Fuck_.”

They never really ended up finishing breakfast.

**


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey Raven, it’s Lexa.” She tilted her head up from the book her fingers had been skimming and smiled.

“Hey Lex. You by yourself?”

“Nope, hey Raven.” Clarke’s voice said from off to the right.

Raven smirked. “Should have figured. How are you, Clarke?”

“I’m pretty good. Gotta go to class in a few minutes though, so I’m abandoning you with Lexa’s horrible company in about fifteen.”

“How dare you,” Raven joked at the same time Lexa said, indignantly, “I am not horrible company.”

Clarke laughed. “Mind if we join you?”

“Go for it.”

“Thanks.” The sound of two heavy bags hitting the floor, clothes rustling and sliding against leather, and then a sigh from across the table. “What about you? Where’s Octavia?’

Raven shook her head. “We aren’t completely co-dependent yet. We _are_ capable of spending time apart from each other, unlike the two of you.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to tease if I were you, Raven,” Lexa said evenly. “It leaves you open to equal criticism when it happens to you.”

“Oh I doubt I’ll ever get as bad as you.”

“I wouldn’t knock it so hard, Ray.” Clarke said, and when her voice spoke next it was much closer and quieter, as if Clarke was leaning across the table to divulge some sort of top secret information. “The more time I spend with Lexa, the more often we can have sex,” she whispered.

Raven pulled a face. “Like you guys need _more_ excuses to have sex.”

“Okay we do not have sex _that_ often,” Lexa tried to reason from across the table, but Raven and Clarke scoffed at the same time (which Raven found amusing to no end) and that shut Lexa right the hell up.

“Octavia’s over often enough at our place for me to gather the frequency with which you and Clarke…” she paused for a minute, searching for adequate words (or maybe something more fitting for a public setting), before she finally settled on, plainly, “fuck.”

Clarke laughed. “Not that I’m agreeing with Lexa – because we do have a frankly astounding amount of sex babe, you can’t deny it – but Octavia’s out of the apartment way more often then we need her to be.” A short pause. “I think she might be using us as an excuse to spend time with you, Raven.”

Raven frowned and shook her head. “Well that’s just ridiculous. Like she needs an excuse to spend time with… we’re _dating_.”

“Does she use it as an excuse to spend the night?” Lexa’s voice asked, evenly, and Raven thought for a moment before she had to flush.

“I hadn’t really… I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Ooohhh,” Clarke teased, “she totally does. She totally uses Lexa and I to booty call you.” A laugh. “I’m so proud of her.”

Raven harrumphed grumpily and brought her hands back down to her textbook. “Whatever. Fuck you guys. Octavia’s fucking amazing in bed so I don’t even care.”

“Raven,” Lexa admonished softly, while Clarke mimed gagging noises from her side.

“Oh so it’s okay if you two talk about fucking each other but as soon as I do it it isn’t cool?” Raven glowered. “Fuck you guys; you’re total hypocrites. I hate you both.”

“Oh you love us,” Clarke dismissed, and Raven would have argued except… yeah, she did love them. She loved them both a lot. She loved that she was sitting at a table in the basically empty library (she could tell because of the time of day and the lack of noise — no turning pages, no quiet sobbing into textbooks, no muffled music or blaring ringtones) talking to two of her best friends about how amazing her girlfriend was. And that was pretty fucking incredible and yeah, Clarke and Lexa were annoying as fuck sometimes (not in a bad way, just in an annoying way; like, _ugh, do you have to be so nauseatingly adorable with your girlfriend all the time?_ kind of way) but they were also… they were also her friends. And they were annoying but funny, infuriating but deeply loyal, and Raven loved them.

And all at once she felt suddenly, miraculously, unexpectedly like she was in _college_. And of course she always felt like she was in college because she _was_ in college, but this… this was different. She felt like a college kid from a movie, or a shitty TV show, or some twelve-dollar young adult novel from Barnes  & Nobel. She felt like a _normal_ college kid, sitting in the library with her friends, talking about her girlfriend, waiting for class to start, and the _novelty_ of it — the unexpectedness of this feeling — the emotions it stirred within her to just feel _so fucking normal_ made her breath catch in her throat.

She didn’t think Clarke or Lexa noticed. They were busy speaking lowly to each other (heads probably bent in close, lips almost brushing ears – essentially foreplay, if what Octavia said about their day-to-day interactions was anywhere close to true).

Here she was, drowning in affection and nostalgia and Clarke and Lexa were too wrapped up in each other to notice. She was about to be all _sappy_ and everything.

She fought the urge to snort. _Classic_.

“I’ve gotta run if I wanna grab a coffee before my two-fifty.” A wet smacking sound (Clarke must have bent to kiss Lexa). Raven grimaced (but it was mostly for show, because — and she would die before admitting it to Clarke or Lexa or Octavia, even — she actually thought that they were pretty cute together). “Raven, you wanna get dinner with us tonight? We were thinking about hitting up that new diner, getting some burgers and milkshakes. And, sorry, _salads_ for the disgusting vegetarian amongst us.”

“It is not disgusting to want to be _healthy_ , Clarke.”

Clarke seemed to ignore her. (Though, to be fair, Raven wasn’t positive that they didn’t exchange some kind of look, some kind of touching expression, some kind of gesture that she couldn’t see that meant that Lexa knew Clarke was just teasing her. Clarke and Lexa had this annoying habit of non-verbally communicating with each other — which in all honesty was probably good when they were eye-fucking in the middle of a Starbucks, but it was really annoying to her, because it left out whole parts of their conversation, whole emotions and thoughts that swept right over her head. Sometimes they would be talking, the three of them – or four, if Octavia was there too – and Clarke and Lexa would be having one conversation and then, after about thirty seconds of silence, they would launch into something completely new and different. It left Raven’s head spinning.)

“So… dinner?”

Raven nodded. “I’ll see if Octavia wants to come.”

“Don’t bother. Already invited her, and she said, and I quote, ‘Only if you promise not to play footsie under the table, Clarke’ so I was thinking that you might like to join me in a rousing game of footsie tonight, Raven. To make both of our girls jealous.”

Raven laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Should I meet you there?”

“We can walk together,” Lexa offered. “See you tonight, Clarke.”

“Bye babe. Love you!” Clarke called as she made her way towards the exit.

“Love you too!” Lexa called back. After a few moments she seemed to notice Raven’s expression. “Oh don’t be an asshole, Raven,” she grumbled under her breath.

Raven laughed. “You are so whipped, Lex. It’s hilarious.”

“I am _not_ whipped.”

“Oh you so are. You’d do anything for Clarke. I bet you’d commit mass murder for her.”

It was quiet for a second. “Well… am I committing mass murder because she asked or because it would be protecting her?”

“Not really the point, Lexa.”

Lexa huffed. “I don’t like hypothetical situations.”

Raven had to smile. “Clarke must be beautiful, to get you this pussy-whipped.”

“I am _not_ pussy-whipped.”

“Oh yes you are. Your soulmate-girlfriend is hot and you’d do just about anything for her.” A silence. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“You… you aren’t wrong, no.”

Raven grinned. “So tell me what she looks like.”

Lexa’s voice seemed hesitant. “Are you sure?”

Raven shrugged. “Yeah, I figure I should have a good picture of her in my head; she’s around literally all the time.”

“You haven’t asked to… ‘see her,’ yet?”

Raven laughed. “Dude no I haven’t even asked _Octavia_ to do that.”

Lexa, when she spoke, was clearly surprised. “ _What_? Why not?”

Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. I have a pretty good idea what she looks like, I mean… I mean we’ve kissed and like… had sex. I’ve felt practically her entire body.”

“But not her face?”

“No, not her face.”

“That is… that’s strange. Why haven’t you done that?”

“It…” Raven trailed off, “I don’t… I don’t know. People react to it differently. I didn’t want to be weird about it. I didn’t want her to think it was weird.”

“Why on _Earth_ would she think it was weird?”

Raven ran her fingers over her text for a few moments, just for something to do, but none of the words registered in her mind. Finally, she said quietly, “Finn laughed when I asked him.” A sharp exhale from in front of her. “Lexa?” She asked, worriedly.

“I’m going to kill him,” Lexa hissed, her voice tight and heated. “I’m going to find out where he is and I am going to _kill him_.”

“Lexa… no…” Raven reached out across the table, but it took her a few seconds to find Lexa’s hand. (Both her fists were clenched tightly around the edge of the table. The wood creaked ominously beneath her fingers.) “Lex… let it go.”

“I don’t see why I have to _let this go_ , Raven. How dare he—”

“No I meant… I meant let go of the table.” Her fingers massaged against Lexa’s knuckles until they softened and released. “It’s stupid. We were… we were young when I asked him, and I don’t think he knew really _what_ I was asking, so he laughed and… and I haven’t asked anyone since.”

A beat. “You should ask Octavia.”

Raven shrugged and withdrew her hand. “Yeah, maybe,” she fiddled with the book in front of her.

“Do you… do you want me to tell you what she looks like?”

Raven brought her head up. Tears pricked at her eyes (though she didn’t know exactly why, but she was very glad that she was wearing her sunglasses today, because she did not want Lexa to see her cry over something so inconsequential), and she had to swallow twice before she managed to get out, through a tight throat, “Ye–yeah. Yeah I think… yeah.”

Lexa leaned forward across the table, her voice lowering just a little bit. “She’s pretty small… smaller than you would think for someone as angry as her.” Raven laughed at that. “She’s small but she’s built like a warrior. Her shoulders and arms are strong, her jaw is sharp and severe, and when she’s mad she glares at you with these eyes that make you think, ‘This is it. I’ve never fucked up this badly before and I will never fuck up this badly again.’ But when you say something nice to her she smiles, just a little, at the corner of her lips, and she drops her eyes down and to the right, like if she looks at you for too long she’ll never be able to look away.”

Raven smiled even as she felt like crying.

“And she is _so_ beautiful, Raven. I know that people tell you that a lot, but it’s true. She’s stunning. She has long dark hair – almost black but not quite – and she likes to keep it long down her back, but every once in a while she’ll tie it up, or string a little braid through it. Her face is symmetrical, but sharp. Strong jawline, strong cheekbones, relatively square face. And her eyes…”

**

The diner was small, but brightly lit, and warm, and smelled like hamburgers and French fries.

Octavia’s mouth immediately started watering as soon as she stepped inside.

“Lexa texted me that they’re already here… in the back.” Clarke gestured with her head and sure enough, there they were: Lexa and Raven, in blue and red, respectively (always red, it seemed).

Octavia slid into the seat next to Raven, Clarke took the one diagonal from her, across from Raven and next to Lexa.

“Hope we didn’t keep you waiting,” Clarke said, throwing her arm over Lexa’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Raven shook her head. “No we just sat down.” She turned to face Octavia next to her. She was blushing (that was surprising, Raven rarely blushed) when she said, “Hey.”

Octavia grinned at her. “Hey back.”

“Kiss?” Raven asked.

Octavia leaned forward and kissed her softly, briefly. When she pulled back, Raven was smiling. Octavia grinned. “You wanna hear what they have to eat?” She asked, picking one of the menus off of the table.

“Not necessary; Lexa read me the whole menu, practically cover-to-cover, before you got here.”

Octavia shot Lexa a look. “Well you could have at least skipped the salad section.”

Lexa crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted her to know _all_ of the options, Octavia.”

Raven’s warm hand landed on Octavia’s thigh and rubbed back and forth a few times, and Octavia completely forgot what she was going to say. “Well, you…” She stumbled and stuttered over her words for a few moments. Clarke shot her an amused look. Octavia huffed, “Go to hell, Griffin.”

A young woman — probably no older than 21, based on the way she looked — approached their table. She practically bounced over, bright smile on her face, ridiculous red apron wrapped around her waist.

She grinned at them. “Hey y’all. Have you decided what you wanna get?” Her voice was nice; bright, clear, slight southern twang. Octavia smiled politely.

The waitress looked around at them. Her gaze lingered on Raven for a moment, who was sitting there completely still with sunglasses on and no menu in front of her, who smiled politely but wasn’t looking in her direction, and Octavia saw a small furrow in the young woman’s brow before she blinked and moved on to focus on Clarke.

They went around the table, Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia and ordered their food one by one.

Once Octavia was done speaking, as Raven was opening her mouth, the waitress asked, eyes fixed on Octavia’s face, “Does she know what she wants to eat?”

They all froze. Out of the corner of her eye Octavia saw Clarke and Lexa exchange a long, significant look before they glanced away. Lexa’s eyes met Octavia’s in that moment, and the emotion which passed between them was the same: fury, indignation, retribution.

Octavia didn’t know what to say. She didn’t. She wanted to say something (and judging by the way she trembled Lexa wanted to say something too), but she didn’t get the chance.

“Yes, she does,” Raven said from next to her, overly-polite smile on her face. “And she’s blind, not deaf, so she can hear you just fine.”

The waitress flushed deep crimson. She stuttered, “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Just a burger, thanks. Medium-rare. And no tomatoes.” Raven smiled in her general direction. The waitress didn’t move or speak. Raven frowned. “Did you get that?” A slight turn to Octavia. “Did she get that?”

“Yeah she did, babe.” Octavia glared at the woman, long and hard.

The waitress gulped and nodded, and said, “I’ll be right back with your drinks, then.”

After she walked away it was quiet between the four of them for a long moment. Octavia looked at Raven, trying to check… trying to see if she was okay, if she was alright, if… God she didn’t even know anymore. She just watched Raven.

“I’m sorry, Raven,” Lexa said from across the table, leaning closer. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Raven sighed and shook her head. “No. It’s fine. It happens all the time.”

That surprised Octavia, who blinked and pulled back. _She_ had never seen it happen before, and she had known Raven over a _year_. They had been out together countless times, and yet she had never…

“Only if you’re sure,” Lexa said quietly. Clarke slipped a hand into hers under the table (Octavia saw the movement, saw the slide of Clarke’s arm down and to the left), “because I don’t mind if you want to go somewhere where you’re more comfortable.”

“It’s okay Lex, really. I’m not bothered. She just didn’t know. Was she young? She sounded young.”

“Yes she was young. Probably a student, too.”

Raven nodded. She cocked her head to the side. “You okay, Octavia?’

Octavia had to swallow once, thickly, in order to get her throat working again. “Ye–yeah I… I’m fine.” She moved her hand to the right, her pointer finger just lightly brushing against Raven’s thigh — a question, an invitation.

Raven took it. She slid her hand down and laced their fingers together. Octavia squeezed tightly, because whatever Raven said (and Octavia _believed_ her, she did. She believed that Raven was okay, that she didn’t want to leave, that she wasn’t offended or irreparably scarred by this experience, because Raven was _strong_ , and if she said it she meant it) her hand was shaking, just a little bit, as it met Octavia’s.

It didn’t end up mattering; not in the long run. They still had a good evening, a good night. They laughed and they joked and the tension left and the waitress gave them some complimentary deserts at the end of their meal so it wasn’t a total bust.

It didn’t end up mattering, not to Raven, not to Lexa, not to Clarke. But it mattered to Octavia. It mattered because she knew how people could be; she knew that they could be ignorant and rude and tone deaf. Even people who loved Raven (Lexa, Clarke, Octavia, Raven’s mother) could do the wrong thing around her sometimes, even if it wasn’t malicious; even if it was innocently ignorant, like this young waitress who _just didn’t know_.

But… but for some reason, this little interaction… the automatic deferral of power from Raven to the able-bodied people around her… it did something to Octavia. She wasn’t sure what. But she never forgot it, never forgot this night, never forgot this interaction or the way Lexa was so ready to jump to Raven’s defense, never forgot the way Raven brushed it off, the sad little way she said “it happens all the time,” never forgot the way Raven’s hand trembled when it met hers.

She wasn’t sure why. But she never forgot it.

**

Octavia’s feet were propped on Raven’s lap as some nature documentary played on the TV, mostly forgotten in front of them. Octavia had flipped there on a whim, and Raven said she didn’t mind because it was mostly just rainforest sounds and the soothing monotone of some old, white narrator, which she said she could “totally be down with” (whatever the hell that meant) so they kept it on. But at this point, neither one of them was paying attention.

Octavia’s eyes were closed, the constant reassuring pressure of Raven’s hands up and down her calves doing a miraculous job at making her drift off to sleep.

It was hot outside – devastatingly so. Raven’s last exam of her final semester had only just finished a few hours ago, and so they were basking in the unexplored freedom of summer.

Octavia was headed home in about two weeks. She and Clarke lived in on-campus housing this year (they were getting an apartment next year; Octavia demanded it. She did not want to have to keep going home for summer break, but they were at the mercy of the housing department for the time being, so she was stuck – homeless with all of her stuff and the looming prospect of a summer in her mom’s tiny house with Bellamy fighting the heat). She wouldn’t have minded staying in the city. She wouldn’t mind staying here full-time, actually — next year was her last at school and she needed to start really thinking about grad school or possible employment opportunities (which was fucking terrifying, Jesus) after she graduated.

Raven had been accepted to a few law schools but had decided to defer for at least a year. She said she wanted to stay in the city and work for a while, maybe; earn some money before she had to start another couple years of school.

Lexa was staying in the city, because “ _Georgetown has an excellent law program, Raven, so I don’t see why I would need to move to a whole new city when I have excellent educational opportunities available to me here.”_ (What Octavia interpreted that as was: “ _I don’t want to leave my girlfriend because we’re hopelessly in love and I just happen to be older than her_.” Which… okay, fair. Octavia wouldn’t judge her for that. And Georgetown _was_ a great law school).

They would all be in the same city again, for at least another year — probably longer, but she supposed that had more to do with what Raven and Clarke ended up doing than anything else. But Clarke was an artist, an art student; she could work practically anywhere. And DC had some great art museums, so… it didn’t feel like she was planning on leaving anytime soon, especially not if Lexa was hanging around indefinitely.

But Raven… Octavia wasn’t sure. Would Raven want to go to Georgetown too? (She knew that she had been accepted there, had been there when Raven’s shaking hands had opened the letter, had read it out loud while Raven’s smile blinded her with its brilliance.) Would she want to go north, to Chicago and Northwestern? Or maybe up to New York and Columbia?

Would Octavia follow her, if that’s where she decided to go? Even if it meant saying goodbye to Clarke and Lexa?

Was she prepared to make that kind of commitment, after only six months? After eight months? After a year and a half? ( _You are_ , her brain thought, impulsively and ruefully, _because she’s your soulmate and you’ll do anything for her._ )

But would it even be so bad, going somewhere else? DC wasn’t exactly known for its stellar public school system. Then again… maybe that would be a draw for Octavia. Maybe she would want to stay, work in underprivileged schools, actually make a difference. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, a naïve hopefulness — she would probably be able to come up with myriad ideas no matter where she decided to go, for whatever reason. Teachers were in high demand pretty much everywhere.

Would she want to stay? Would it be better to leave?

Was she going to end up choosing whatever kept her closest to Raven?

But that didn’t matter yet, so they didn’t think about it. Graduation for Octavia was still a year off, Raven was in a sort of limbo state of not going to school and not being employed, and she could at least take the summer to herself, at least… at least relax and forget about school and futures and careers for one summer.

And Octavia was leaving in two weeks, so she really wasn’t keen on spending any more time than necessary moping and worrying about whatever future she may or may not have in the education field.

She was leaving in two weeks, but she was pretty reluctant to go… especially at first, because Clarke had plans to stay in DC for the summer (she claimed she would start looking for places to live – and if she found any she promised Octavia that she would call her and let her know immediately – but Octavia had a sneaking suspicion that most of her time would be spent at Lexa and Raven’s place and not out combing the streets for a suitable apartment close to campus for the two of them). And Lexa and Raven were staying in the city, too. And yeah, it would be good to go home to see her friends – she missed Harper and Bellamy and Wells and Monroe – but she also _really_ didn’t want to leave.

She liked it here. She liked this place and this apartment and she liked these people, she liked Lexa and Raven and Clarke, she liked training with Lincoln, she liked that Bellamy worked not too far from where she lived, and Philadelphia wasn’t _too_ far away – it wasn’t like California – but she didn’t have a car and train tickets were _expensive_ and she wasn’t sure where she and Raven stood on the whole “coming to visit” thing. They had been dating for just over six months now, but they were hardly at “shack up with your girlfriend for the summer” level (whereas Clarke and Lexa, approaching their year-and-a-half anniversary, had no such qualms).

“Babe?” Octavia asked, eyes still closed.

Raven’s hands paused their movement on her legs. “Yeah?”

“Do you want me to visit you this summer?”

“What?”

Octavia sat up, rapt attention focused on Raven. She didn’t look offended, so that was good, merely curious. Her eyes were focused in Octavia’s direction (not perfectly; they settled pretty high and to the right of Octavia’s shoulder) and she blinked a few times.

“Like… this summer. When you’re here with Lexa and probably Clarke. Do you want me to visit you?”

Raven frowned. “Weren’t you going to?”

“I… I wanted to. But we never talked about it, really.”

Raven smiled. “Philly is pretty close, Octavia. I’d be kind of offended if you _didn’t_ visit.”

Octavia breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Okay cool, good.”

Raven quirked an eyebrow. “How long have you been thinking about asking me this?”

“About a month.”

“Octavia,” Raven admonished, shaking her head. “Come on. You can trust me to talk about this stuff, okay? You don’t need to be embarrassed to ask me things or tell me things. No secrets, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Octavia said quietly, even as her stomach sank and her palms began to sweat. _No secrets,_ Raven had said. Okay. Okay she could do this. No secrets. No secrets. Wasn’t that hard.

She could tell the truth. She opened her mouth and took a breath, but Raven laughed and squeezed her knee before she could say anything.

“Okay, if we’re being honest and everything, I have something to confess.”

Octavia swallowed the butterflies in her stomach, fought against the panic in her blood, and thought, _It’s too soon, it’s not the right time, don’t interrupt her._ She took a breath. “Wh–what is that?”

“Well don’t sound so nervous.”

Octavia forced a laugh through her grimace (and for the first time in her life she was actually _thankful_ that her girlfriend couldn’t see her facial expression. And that thought made her feel sick all over again).

“Sorry,” she said, trying to make her voice as even as possible, “not nervous. Just curious. A little excited.” Raven smiled, but it looked a little hesitant. Octavia sat up straighter. “What is it?”

“It… it’s stupid.” Raven suddenly seemed to lose her nerve, collapsing in on herself in a moment of confusing embarrassment.

“What did we just talk about?” Octavia prompted. “You don’t need to be nervous or embarrassed. N–no secrets, right?” (Fuck, she was going to make herself vomit. She felt so dirty, because she was keeping something _huge_ from Raven and she couldn’t muster the fucking _nerve_ to just —)

Raven took a breath. “Can I… fuck,” she laughed nervously and shook her head, turning it away from Octavia. “This sounds so stupid…” Octavia didn’t say anything, just waited for Raven to gather whatever nerve she needed in order to ask what she clearly wanted to ask. “Can I touch your face?”

Octavia blinked and drew back momentarily, confused. “What?”

Raven grimaced. “That sounded really fucking stupid. Sorry. I mean can I… that’s how I ‘see’ things – by feeling them. So I was wondering if I could…?”

Octavia’s eyes widened as she understood. “Oh,” she said quietly, and she pulled her legs off of Raven’s lap so she could tuck them under herself and lean closer.

This, as it turned out, was the wrong thing to do, because Raven immediately blushed and hurriedly tried to retract her request. “Forget it,” she mumbled, “it’s dumb. I don’t need to… sorry. It’ll probably make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want —”

“No Raven… I mean, just… _yeah_.”

Raven stopped her fidgeting and turned her body back so that it was square with Octavia’s. “What?” She asked, almost breathless.

“No like… yeah, you can feel my face. I didn’t… I didn’t know you _wanted_ to. I would have offered like a year ago, if I had known. I figured you didn’t do that kind of thing.”

“I don’t do it often,” Raven practically whispered.

Octavia scooted forward, so that she was closer, closer, closer. She could probably count every one of Raven’s eyelashes, if she wanted to. “How do you want to do this?” Octavia asked with a low voice. Her breath washed over Raven’s face and Raven’s eyes fluttered closed against the breeze.

“If I can just…?” She brought her hands up and rested them on Octavia’s shoulders. Her thumbs traced circles against Octavia’s neck, and the tickling sensation made goosebumps erupt down the sides of Octavia’s body, causing her to shiver pleasantly. “Is this okay?” Raven asked.

“This is fine,” Octavia said back, quietly.

Raven’s hands slipped up the sides of her neck before they paused at her jaw. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” she laughed uneasily, “I mean… I’ve felt your face before. We’ve kissed and fucked, this shouldn’t be so —”

Octavia tilted her head and used her shoulder to nudge one of Raven’s hands higher, so that she was now cupping her jaw. Raven fell silent. “Not like this,” Octavia said quietly. “And don’t worry; I’m nervous too.”

That seemed to put Raven at ease. Her hands moved more surely now, less cautiously as the fingers of her right hand traced along Raven’s jaw, over her lips, up the bridge of her nose, around her cheekbones, softly against her closed eyes, and all the way up and around her forehead. She sat there, unmoving as Raven’s soft hands explored every part of her face.

Raven laughed and Octavia opened her eyes slowly. “What is it?” She asked.

“You’re tense.” Raven’s head was a little downturned, tilted to the side, the way she sat when she was paying attention to everything around her. She was smiling, which made Octavia smile. “There you go,” Raven teased, and Octavia had to laugh.

Raven’s smile grew wider. “Stay like that,” she requested.

“Like what?”

“Keep smiling. I want to know what you look like when you smile.”

And something about that sentence hit her right in the stomach and Octavia found herself going breathless, suddenly and unexpectedly.

As Raven’s hands studied her, she studied Raven. Raven, who sat there, hair piled messily on the top of her head, wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a paper-thin tank-top — her only refuge against the heat — who had closed her eyes as she hummed, as her fingers skimmed Octavia’s face. Her hands weren’t searching like they were a few minutes before, now they paused and focused on certain things (a pointer finger drawing across the swell of her lips, a thumb brushing at the bridge of her nose, a palm cupped around her cheek).

And it hit Octavia, all of a sudden.

She was _in love_ with this girl.

She surged forward and kissed Raven, who — thanks to the fact that she held Octavia’s face in her hands — had had a moment to prepare for the contact. But still, Raven’s surprised noise got swallowed up by Octavia’s mouth.

She kissed her, hard, lips rough but tongue soft and explorative. Raven smiled against her mouth.

Octavia pulled back and rested her forehead against Raven’s. “I…” she started to say, but when she opened her eyes and looked at Raven’s face, at the soft openness of her expression, and the comfortable joy stretching her mouth into a grin, she shook herself. _You have plenty of time,_ her mind said, _you’re leaving in two weeks. Wait a little longer before you drop the L-bomb._

“That was… weirdly hot,” she ended up saying, lamely. But if Raven knew what she had _almost_ said, if she had any kind of inkling as to what had shot through Octavia’s mind so quickly and unexpectedly a few seconds ago, she did not let on.

Instead she laughed. “That wasn’t really the reaction I was going for.”

“Well you got it.” And it _had_ been kind of hot. Well… maybe not ‘hot’ in the whole, ‘I have to get you out of these clothes as fast as I possibly can’ kind of way, but certainly… sensual. Intimate. Unexpectedly erotic.

Maybe it was the softness with which Raven touched her, maybe it was the look on her face, maybe it was how serious she had seemed, how… how reverent. How nervous she had been before hand, maybe.

Whatever the reason, Octavia was now having to shift in her seat, because she was a little wet and she was a little embarrassed about it.

Raven noticed (of course she did). She smirked at Octavia, eyes still closed. One of her hands slipped from its place on Octavia’s face and down her body, fingers slipping below her waistband and pressing against the front of her underwear. Octavia gasped and shifted unconsciously toward the pressure. “Need some help, O?” Raven teased.

“I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t turn you down.”

Raven’s fingers pressed harder, sliding in tight, easy circles around Octavia’s clit. “I bet you wouldn’t.”

“You gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna help me come?”

Raven’s fingers slipped inside and Octavia fell back against the couch.

Well. That answered that question.

**

_The first time Raven met Lexa, it didn’t go that well._

_The grocery store was cold, the open refrigeration of the produce section chilling Raven’s skin and drawing her attention away from the sounds around her._

_Her mother was around here somewhere; probably dragging an obstinate Echo behind her through the store to buy something Raven wouldn’t end up using._

_She was working her way slowly, slowly up the aisle, letting the cool air wash over her. This was a hot summer. They had many hot summers, because DC was built on a fucking swamp and whose genius idea was that, exactly? But this summer felt hotter, probably because it was drier. It hadn’t rained in nearly three weeks – a general anomaly for DC and northern Maryland (which is where Raven actually lived, but if anyone asked she would usually say, “Washington DC” because it was easier and more recognizable and generally true)._

_Something large and solid smacked into her, sending her sprawling against the cold tiled floor. Her elbow knocked against something to her right and she only barely managed to catch herself before her head smacked into the floor._

_Her elbow smarted, her wrist groaned at her, and a voice, loud and angry from above, shouted, “Hey watch where you’re going!”_

_Raven rolled over on the ground, brow furrowed in both anger and confusion. “You’re the one who ran into me.”_

_“Well I wouldn’t have if you had been paying attention. Did you not see me in front of you?”_

_Raven waved the cane in her right hand. “No, I didn’t. Sorry,” she bit sarcastically._

_The woman (girl? Teenager?) in front of her fell silent with a quiet, “Oh.”_

_Raven sat there for a few more moments before she stuck out her hand. “Well? Are you going to help me up?” The woman’s hand slipped past her own and gripped her forearm. Her fingers were long and her arms were strong. She leaned back and hoisted Raven up without even a groan of exertion._

_“Sorry,” she mumbled quietly, “sorry I just… sorry.”_

_Raven laughed bitterly and wiped at the seat of her pants (public floors were, as a general rule, disgusting to touch). “Nice of you to yell at the blind girl. Really classy act.”_

_The girl didn’t respond, and so Raven opened her mouth to say something else (to scold her again? To ask her a question?) but her mother’s voice came from behind her, startling her into turning around. “Raven who are you talking to?”_

_Raven frowned. “Is there not a girl in front of me?”_

_Her mother’s voice, closer now. “No, it’s just you.”_

_Raven snorted and scoffed. “Of course she ran away. Ugh, what a bitch.”_

_“Raven Reyes do not use that language around me,” her mother scolded, “your sister is right here.”_

_“Sorry, mami.” But she wasn’t really sorry; she wasn’t really sorry at all. Because that girl was a bitch, knocking her over, helping her up, and then skipping away without another word. The least she could have done would be to stick around and apologize._

_Raven shook her head. Cowardly Bitch._

_\--_

_“Oh… hey.”_

_Raven frowned at the unexpected voice. She didn’t bump into many people browsing the audiobook section of the library. “Do I know you?” She asked suspiciously_

_“Yes I… I’m the girl who ran into you last week? Remember?”_

_Raven shook her head. “You’ll have to be more specific; I run into a lot of people.”_

_The girl’s voice was unsure as she said, “In the grocery store. I yelled at you?”_

_Raven laughed. “Oh yeah, I’ve been calling you ‘Cowardly Bitch’ in my head.”_

_“That… that’s cool. I also answer to ‘Lexa,’ though.”_

_“How old are you, Lexa? You sound young.”_

_“I’m fifteen.”_

_Raven smirked. “Me too. Do you go to the private school? I don’t recognize your voice… or your name, for that matter.”_

_“No, I just moved in with my aunt and uncle a few weeks ago.” So her parents were out of the picture, then. Raven didn’t ask about them. She knew all about shitty parental situations – Echo had been living with her family for almost eight years now – and it was probably a sore subject with Lexa._

_Instead, she asked, “So you’re starting at Churchill in the fall?” Silence answered her. Raven cocked her head. “Are you still here?”_

_“Sorry. Sorry I nodded. I forgot that… sorry.”_

_Raven shrugged her off. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”_

_“Yes I’m starting at Churchill in August. Indra and Gustus – my aunt and uncle – they have a couple of kids who go there already. You might know… Anya Trikru? She’s my cousin.”_

_Raven tilted her head up, thinking. “Yeah.… yeah I think so. She’s a senior this year, right? Plays soccer?”_

_She could hear the smile in Lexa’s voice when she responded, “Yes that’s her.”_

_“She’s adopted, yeah?”_

_“Why do you say that?” Lexa sounded a little cross, and Raven shrugged, trying to appear as inoffensive as possible._

_“No reason. People talk about it sometimes, that she doesn’t look anything like her siblings. I was just curious.”_

_“Well… yes, all of my cousins are adopted. My aunt didn’t… she thinks there are too many children in the world already who need homes. She didn’t want to have her own when there were others out there in need.”_

_“Admirable outlook.”_

_“I think so.”_

_Raven was quiet for a moment. “Do you usually overshare like this, or am I a special circumstance?”_

_“Oh I… I’m sorry I didn’t realize…” Lexa took a deep breath. “I feel really bad about what happened last week. I wanted to make it up to you.”_

_“By sharing your whole life story?” Raven smirked, “Not that I’m complaining; it’s a very interesting life story. I just usually don’t get this much unsolicited information from strangers who bump into me in public places.”_

_“In all honesty a lot of it probably has to do with the fact that I feel very uncomfortable around you.” Raven cocked her head, small smile playing at her lips. That was new. People didn’t usually like to admit when they were uncomfortable around her. “But I don’t particularly like that that’s the way that I’m feeling. I think that it’s wrong of me to be made uncomfortable by your disability.” Raven would tend to agree. “So I thought we could maybe… be friends?”_

_Raven arched an eyebrow. “Look it’s a nice sentiment, Lexa, but I’m not really in the market for a new best friend. And I’m not exactly jumping at the opportunity to be a token in your life.”_

_“I don’t mean to imply you would be a token.”_

_Raven shook her head. “I’m not here for to make you feel better. I’m not going to give you a cookie because you want to spend time with someone who’s blind, okay? This isn’t… you don’t get to pat yourself on the back because you befriended a disabled person like… like some kind of LifeTime movie.”_

_“I… I can see that I’ve offended you. I sincerely apologize. It was not my intention. This wasn’t… I don’t want to be friends with you out of… curiosity or pity or to make myself feel better. Just a genuine…” a long pause. “I don’t know anyone here, really, except my cousins and the girl I knocked over in the grocery store last week. I don’t think that it is totally crazy to want to get to know you. Though I suppose… I could be wrong?”_

_Raven waited for a moment before she said, quietly, “No, I suppose it isn’t totally crazy.”_

_“Plus… well Anya is always telling me that I should make more friends. And school is starting in a month and… well I won’t lie to you, it would be nice to go in knowing someone who is not related to me.”_

_Raven chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment. She didn’t have very many close friends… she didn’t really hang out with anyone over the summer… she didn’t have a job… Lexa was new and at least interesting. Getting to know her wouldn’t be the end of the world. If she turned out to be boring or crazy or someone not worth knowing she could always just stop talking to her. What could it hurt, really?_

_So Raven, possibly against her better judgment, nodded. “Are you hot?” She asked._

_Lexa sputtered. “What?”_

_“Are you hot? I have an image to uphold after all, Lexa. If you’re hotter than me you might distract all of the disgustingly horny teenage boys from wanting to bang me, and I can’t have that.”_

_“I… well I’m not…” a breath, “I don’t think I’m unattractive?”_

_“That tells me nothing.” Raven sighed. “You better not try to steal my boyfriend.”_

_“You have a boyfriend?”_

_“…Well not currently, no, but I_ might _in the future, and you better not steal him.”_

_Lexa laughed quietly. “That won’t be a problem.”_

_Raven cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t like boys?”_

_“Not particularly.”_

_Raven smiled. “A girl’s girl. Okay, I can get behind that.”_

**

“Fuck… fuck Octavia… shit, O, no… no I don’t think I can—”

A brief relief from the sensations shocking through her core. Octavia’s voice, soft and low and husked with sex: “Yes you can. Come on… one more, Ray.”

Sweat had long since formed at the edge of Raven’s hairline. It pooled at her lower back. Her legs trembled with the weight and force of four consecutive, rocking orgasms that had torn through her body.

Octavia hadn’t let her rest for a moment between them. She had simply sucked harder, driven her fingers deeper, flicked her tongue faster.

Raven’s heart was pounding in her chest and her hands shook and grasped at bed sheets weekly.

Octavia’s mouth returned to her clit, and at the first flick Raven screamed and arched her back and let out one dry, desperate sob. Because fuck, she already wanted… _needed_ to come again.

Octavia licked slowly, her tongue flat and long and smooth as it slid up Raven’s cunt in an agonizing moment of restraint.

Raven almost sobbed again. “Octavia fuck please, please, please you can’t… don’t tease I can’t…”

Fingers (three? It felt like three) plunged in and hooked up, Octavia’s tongue set a furious pace, and Raven, already so desperate and sensitive, crashed over the edge in mere seconds.

The next time she remembered remembering, Octavia was at her side, kissing her neck softly. “Are you okay?” She whispered into Raven’s ear.

Raven would probably laugh if she wasn’t so exhausted. “I… yeah. I… yes. Yeah.”

Octavia laughed into her collar and nipped once. Raven took deep, even, shaking breaths, trying desperately to slow her pounding heart.

“Having trouble with full sentences?”

Raven rolled over and buried her head into Octavia’s pillow. She closed her eyes, fatigue washing over her body. “That was… a lot.”

A pause. “Good a lot or bad a lot? I know I pushed you at the end I’m sorry I should have stopped, I just—”

“No it… it was _good_. _Really_ good. I just… need a minute to breathe. Or sleep.” She hummed as she sank lower into the bed. “Sleep sounds nice.”

She felt blankets being pulled up her legs, cool fabric over hot skin, and Octavia’s naked body brushed against hers. A hand slipped around her waist but Octavia otherwise kept her distance. (She usually did. They rarely slept huddled together, bundled up and spooning, unless it was particularly cold or one of them had had a bad day or they were fully clothed. Raven liked her space while she slept and Octavia respected that.)

“You can go to sleep, babe.”

Raven mumbled and struggled against exhaustion for just a moment, just long enough to ask, “But what about you?”

Octavia’s hand gripped her hip, just once. “I’m fine, honestly. I… well… five times is a lot, I didn’t exactly… I’m not _unsatisfied_.”

Raven smirked. “You fucked yourself while eating me out?”

She could practically feel the blush radiating off of Octavia’s cheeks when she said, “You’re hot. Sue me.”

Raven smiled and let sleep take her, lulled into oblivion with the feeling of Octavia’s warm body next to hers, radiating heat and safe and good and home.

\--

Raven woke up screaming.

A ripping, tearing, agonizing pain was shredding its way down her her left calf in such a way that she was left writhing and twisting.

She smacked into Octavia, who jolted awake with a muffled, “Huh? What?”

“Fuck I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying,” Raven wheezed out with increasing speed. Her body arched over itself, hands gripping her calves and trying desperately to stop her muscles from ripping off her leg.

She gasped and clenched her teeth, forcing the screams back into her lungs.

Octavia’s hands were immediately on her leg. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” She sounded panicked, scared, unsure.

“Fuck my leg… it’s…”

“Flex your foot, babe. Just… just flex.”

“Flex my fucking foot that isn’t going to… fuck I’m dying. I’m never going to be able to walk again, I—”

Octavia took hold of her foot and gently, slowly, bent it up, releasing the tension in her calf. The muscles strained and fought against her but finally, agonizingly, her foot was flexed and she could feel her leg again.

Raven could finally breathe evenly. Her eyes pricked with tears as her heart rate slowed down. She gasped in grateful breaths. “Thank–thank you. _Fuck_. What the hell was that? I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

A soft kiss to the top of her head. “It was just a Charlie Horse babe; you’re fine. I used to get them all the time when I was still playing soccer. They happen after like… an intense workout, sometimes. Usually if you haven’t stretched or you’re dehydrated.”

Raven frowned and rubbed at the sore muscles. Fuck, she would be feeling this tomorrow. “That doesn’t make sense I don’t really workout—” She cut herself off as it dawned on her.

Octavia seemed to realize it at the same time. She burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter and rolled away, onto her back, and gasped for breath.

“Octavia… don’t…” Raven whined, “I’m in pain don’t laugh at me…”

“I–I’m sorry it’s just so– _so_ funny.”

Raven huffed, brows furrowed. She pulled the blankets up and over her head (but winced when she put unwelcome pressure on her still-smarting leg). “It isn’t funny,” she grumbled. “You almost killed me.”

Octavia laughed louder. “I didn’t almost kill you, you just… we went too hard last night, clearly.”

“I’m glad this is hilarious to you.”

Octavia laughed again. “I’ve just never fucked a girl into getting an athletic injury, before.”

Raven huffed again and rolled over, turning her back on Octavia.

The next second Octavia’s warm presence was right behind her, close enough so she could feel her but not yet touching.

She giggled now, low and under her breath. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out (Raven could hear the smile in her voice). “I’m sorry. Are you… are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad. My leg just fucking hurts and I’m tired and grumpy.”

Octavia made a noise of agreement. “Do you want to sleep like this?” She asked quietly, “Or would you rather I move away?”

Raven snaked an arm behind her back until her hand met Octavia’s. She grabbed her arm and pulled until Octavia’s front was flush with her back, and arm wrapped loosely around Raven’s waist. “You’re gonna owe me big, tomorrow, for making fun of me while I was injured,” Raven said, eyes already closed and sleep already brushing at her consciousness.

Every time during the next day that Raven brought the incident up, Octavia laughed too loudly to be much actual help (but she still massaged Raven’s leg until the smarting, stinging soreness went away. And Raven, though she grumbled and huffed, still thought it was pretty sweet. But she wouldn’t admit it easily).

**

Lincoln grunted as Octavia’s leg smacked into the pad he held against his body. He grinned at her. “Nice kick.”

She smirked back. “You gonna complain like you did last time?”

He shook his right arm out. “ _No_.” A short pause. “Are you gonna beat me up like you did last time?”

Octavia laughed. “I’ll go easy on you, Link. Nothing to fear from me.”

He sighed. “Good, because you’re much stronger than me and it’s really hurting my street cred.”

She snorted. “What street cred? You live in Takoma Park.”

He glared. “I have street cred.”

She laughed and kicked at him again. He grunted again at the force of the impact.

For a while no sound passed between them besides grunts and the smack of skin against leather.

When they switched it up — Octavia bracing Lincoln’s punching bag as he pummeled the fabric— he asked her, between pants and swings, “How are things going with you and Raven?”

She smiled. A few more jabs from him. “Good. They… they’re really good.”

He shot her a look. “I know that face. That’s the ‘I’m having crazy sex with my girlfriend face.’”

Octavia blushed. “I do _not_ have a face.”

He grinned wider. “Am I wrong?”

Her blush turned into an annoyed glare. Finally, she sighed. “No, you aren’t wrong.” He laughed and hit the bag a few more times, this time harder, and Octavia stumbled backwards a few paces. She arched her eyebrows. “What is this, payback?”

“Not payback. Not yet.” A few more jabs. “Have you told her she’s your soulmate, yet?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

Lincoln stopped punching. He grabbed the bag to stop the slight sway and used his teeth to undo the Velcro keeping his glove in place. “Octavia,” he said, low and warning, and she sighed.

“I _know_ , Lincoln. I know.”

“You have to tell her. This isn’t healthy.”

She groaned. “Easier said than done.”

“No, not easier said than done. Look, I’ll do it. ‘Raven, you’re my soulmate.’ Look, there, it’s done.”

She glared at him. “I really don’t appreciate that tone of voice.”

He shrugged. “Tough love, O. Sometimes you have to face the hard shit if you wanna keep the good shit around.”

“Every time you say it it sounds so easy —”

“It _is_ so easy.”

She glared harder. “It isn’t. You know that it isn’t.”

“Why? Because she’s blind.”

“Yeah, sort of.” Octavia moved away from him and grabbed a towel from her bag, dabbing at her forehead as Lincoln appeared by her side, chugging water.

“You still have to tell her.”

“And what if she doesn’t believe me?” Octavia shot at him.

He blinked back. “Why would she not believe you?”

“She doesn’t believe in soulmates, Lincoln.”

“That can’t be true. Lexa’s her best friend, and Lexa and Clarke are the soulmatiest soulmates to ever soulmate.”

Octavia shook her head. “She doesn’t believe it could ever happen to her. And… what, her girlfriend of half a year is just gonna say one day, ‘Oh yeah, by the way, you know soulmates? Yeah I’m yours and I’ve been lying to you for our entire relationship’?” She sighed and sat down on one of the metal benches that lined the wall of the gym. “She wouldn’t have any reason to believe me.”

He took a swig from his water bottle and eyed her carefully. “Why would she have any reason to think you’re lying?”

Octavia rested her head against the wall behind her and shut her eyes. “She might think that I’m only telling her because of Clarke and Lexa. She might think that I’m trying to force our relationship to be… to be something more ‘real’ or… I don’t know…”

“So… what, you’re just never going to tell her? For the rest of your life?” Octavia opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no, either. Lincoln sat down next to her. “You can’t expect this to last.”

“I’m careful.”

“Yeah but for how long, Octavia? How long until you slip up?”

She did not answer, and he did not push her farther. They sat like that, side by side in silence, for a very, very long time.

**

_They were laying on their backs in the middle of a large grassy field about five minutes from Raven’s house (by car). It was late, very late, past midnight, and Raven was drinking slowly from a cherry slurpee. The cold damp grass felt wonderful against her flushed skin. DC was miserable in the summer, hot and humid – during the middle of the day it felt like walking through muggy soup. Night was the only semi-bearable time to be outside._

_Lexa’s elbow brushed against hers and Raven turned her head. She still wore her sunglasses (she wouldn’t be comfortable without them in public for a long while yet, and even though she and Lexa were relatively secluded – thanks to their location and the lateness of the hour – the sunglasses remained perched on her nose)._

_“Do you believe in soulmates, Raven?” Lexa asked quietly from next to her._

_“Are you getting philosophical while you look at the stars again?’_

_“No,” Lexa grumbled, but Raven knew she was lying. “It’s just… I don’t know. Do you ever wonder about what colors must look like?” Raven raised her eyebrows high and did not deign to respond to that. Lexa shifted (she probably blushed, embarrassed), “Sorry,” she mumbled, “wrong wording.”_

_“You think?”_

_“No I just… I don’t know. Don’t listen to me. I’m being sentimental.”_

_Raven laughed. “You hate sentimental.”_

_Lexa groaned. “I know. I’ve just been… thinking about it, recently. You know Jasper and Maya?”_

_Raven had to think for a minute. “Maybe? Is one of them in your Calc class?”_

_“Yeah that’s Maya. Jasper just transferred in from another school.”_

_It was quiet between them for a long moment. The crickets chirped lazily in the heavy air. “What about them?”_

_“They’re soulmates.”_

_Raven’s eyebrows jumped up. “That’s surprising. They’re pretty young for it.”_

_Lexa sighed. “I know. How lucky.”_

_Raven smirked. “Lexa Woods, are you a secret romantic?”_

_“No,” Lexa grumbled again, but she was lying (again). Raven could always tell. “I just… people talk about colors all the time. It feels like… the only thing any girl aged fifteen to twenty can think or talk about.”_

_Raven pulled her arms up, folding them behind her head. Her drink sat, cold but present, pressed against her upper thigh. “So now you’re thinking about it too?”_

_“How can I_ not _?”_

_Raven shrugged. “It feels like a strange thing, to me. Like… soulmates? How can that be real? How can they be real?”_

_The grass rustled next to her. It sounded like Lexa rolling over to face her. Raven turned her head (a courtesy she had gotten used to enacting. It didn’t matter where she was facing, but she found people often felt more comfortable around her if she turned towards them when they talked). “Sometimes I think it must be a conspiracy,” Lexa whispered, “because… colors? What’s a_ color _? How do… some people, the way they describe them, I just think… it feels like people who think that they have been abducted by aliens. They all tell the same sort of story but they have no evidence to back it up so you have to think that… it can’t_ possibly _be true. Right?”_

_Raven smiled sadly. “You’re asking the wrong girl, Lex.”_

_Lexa sighed and the grass moved again. A hand brushed against her arm (Raven tried not to flinch, because she was not expecting it). “Lexa,” she scolded, “the touching.”_

_The hand withdrew quickly. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”_

_“It’s okay. Try again.”_

_“Is it alright if I touch your arm?” Raven nodded, and the hand reappeared._

_“What were you going to say?” Raven asked after a moment, after letting Lexa’s hand rest, welcome and expected, upon her arm._

_“It feels foolish now.”_

_“Try anyways.”_

_Lexa sighed. “I’m just worried. What if… what if I can never fall in love? What if I never find my soulmate? What if I_ do _find my soulmate and they’re… I don’t know.”_

_Raven prompted gently, “Male?”_

_A shaky exhale. “Yes.”_

_“You’re worried your soulmate might be a dude?”_

_“It would feel… I know that sexuality is a spectrum and that it is fluid and I… I shouldn’t say definitively that I am exclusively attracted to women because, of course, I don’t_ know _for sure. I haven’t tested_ every _man in the world. But it… it feels like I am.”_

_“You’re allowed to be gay, Lexa. Sexuality is only as fluid as you perceive it to be. And just because sexuality is fluid doesn’t mean that yours has to be.”_

_“I know all of this, logically. But it would… It would hurt. Do you understand? If the universe… if the one person I am supposed to end up with is male. That would hurt. Because in a world of almost 4 billion women… none of them are right for me, even though…” She trailed off, and Raven rolled over so that they lay face-to-face on the damp ground._

_“You are_ loveable _, Lex. Don’t think that you aren’t.”_

_A quiet, sad whisper in the night air: “Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like that.”_

**

“Honey, I’m home!” Octavia’s voice rang through the apartment.

Raven laughed. “In the kitchen!”

Octavia’s soft footsteps approached behind her. “Hello. Hug?” She asked, and Raven nodded but didn’t turn away from the sink.

Octavia’s arms slipped around her waist and she pulled her close. Raven shrieked. “Octavia you stink!”

“I was at the gym!”

Raven scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “I wouldn’t have let you touch me if I knew you were this nasty.”

Octavia pressed quick, short kisses to Raven’s neck, which made her wiggle and squirm in Octavia’s arms. “That’s rude. I thought you liked me when I’m all sweaty.”

“I like you when you’re all sweaty because of me.” More quick kisses to her neck, and Raven finally twisted out of her arms, laughing. “You stink. Go take a shower.”

“You gonna come with me?”

Raven laughed and shook her head. “I’m waiting for the food to get here. I’ll shower after you.”

When Octavia kissed her she could feel the pout against her lips. “You are _absolutely_ no fun.”

“Well sorry babe, if you wanna eat tonight you’ll have to wash your own hair. Someone’s gotta pay the delivery guy.”

A dramatic sigh. “ _Fine_ , if this is the kind of treatment I’m going to get…”

Raven just laughed at her.

\--

“Octavia, babe did you move the shampoo?”

A bang and crash, and feet skidding across the floor. Octavia’s breathless voice said from the doorway, “Shit, yeah sorry I must have.” She poked her head inside the shower curtain. “Third down on your left.”

Raven smirked. “Did you move the shampoo on purpose so you could perv on me in the shower?”

“Absolutely not.”

Raven arched an eyebrow. “You lying?”

“No.”

Raven decided to believe her. “Well… you’re here anyways. Wanna get in?”

“Wha… but you… you made me shower two hours ago!”

Raven cocked her head and put a hand on her hip (Octavia whimpered). “Are you saying no?”

“Of course I’m not saying no. I’m just indignant, is all.”

The sound of fabric hitting the floor, and then the shower curtain pulled back (letting in a gust of cold air that made Raven shiver and her nipples harden). Octavia’s warm body slipped in next to hers and she smiled.

“Wanna get that shampoo for me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

**

_The thing about Raven’s sister was, she couldn’t clean up after herself to save her life. Raven was 17 years old, beautiful (or so Lexa told her), and the older sister to a 15 year-old who had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with. And she was messy (what 15 year-old_ isn’t _messy?) but usually her mom was around when she came home from school, present enough to scold her about picking up her shoes or her book bag or her coat._

_When she got home from school that day, Echo kicked off her shoes in the front hall like she usually did, but her mother was on the phone with her abuela, and so she didn’t yell like she usually did, and Echo bounced up to her room with her books and her phone and her bag (probably to talk to a boy or a friend, or maybe to watch a movie, or maybe to study Pre-Calculus, depending on what day it was and how she was feeling) and so her shoes laid in the foyer, forgotten and unassuming._

_Until Raven came home._

_Lexa dropped her off as she usually did after school (they liked to study Spanish together after school on Wednesdays because they usually had some kind of quiz on Thursday, and even when they didn’t it was nice to have a designated ‘hang-out’ day for the two of them) and Raven was whistling as she walked in the front door._

_She placed her cane next to the door like she usually did (she didn’t need it in her own home because she had lived there for 17 years and in 17 years not a single piece of furniture had changed positions so she knew her way around better than anywhere in the world) and walked forwards before her foot caught on something she didn’t anticipate and she came crashing to the ground, arms outstretched to catch herself._

_“Fuck!” She cursed, feeling something crack in her wrist. “Jesus Christ.”_

_“Raven?” Her mother’s anxious voice called from the kitchen, and Raven could hear her frantic footsteps racing through the house to get to her._

_Raven groaned and rolled over, sitting up and clutching her right wrist in her hand. “Goddamn I hate that,” she muttered._

_“Raven, dios mio, what happened mija?” Her mother bent down and immediately began fussing with her, grabbing her arm (which made her jump for two reasons: surprise — she really_ hated _when people touched her without asking – and pain — because she was pretty sure her wrist was broken)._

_“Ouch, mami, cool it with the rough handling, will you?”_

_“Echo!” Her mother screeched shrilly in her ear, and Raven winced again. “Echo get down here_ now _!” Her mother stood and stormed towards the stairs and began screaming in a rapid and angry mix of Spanish and English._

_Raven’s wrist twinged again and she grimaced._

_“How could you leave your shit lying about? You know that your sister can’t see! You could have killed her, because you’re estupida, lazy, self-centered–”_

_“Mami calm down! I’m not a_ fucking _invalid!” Raven yelled, standing now, eyes brimming with unshed tears (of pain or humiliation she wasn’t sure). “I_ tripped _, people trip, it’s fine.”_

_“It is_ not _fine, Raven, you could have been seriously hurt because your sister—”_

_“She’s_ fifteen _mami, she made a mistake. Please just let it go.”_

_Her mother’s hand landed on her upper arm and Raven jumped and scowled. “Raven I know you don’t like thinking that you need help to do things, but your sister—”_

_“Mami_ lay off _. Look, Echo left her shoes out, whatever she shouldn’t have done that, but I’m not going to be able to live in a sterile, shoe-less environment my whole life! I’m going to college in a year and you can better believe there’s gonna be things to trip on and people to bump into me and you can’t go yelling and screaming and throwing a fit every time I get hurt!” Raven took a deep breath. “I am going to_ get hurt _, mami. That’s just the way it is. You need to stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I can’t see, that doesn’t mean I need someone hovering over my shoulder, clearing every path and making sure I don’t bump into any tables. That’s just the way life is, mami.”_

_It was quiet in the house. Raven wasn’t sure exactly where her sister was (she hadn’t heard footsteps on the stairs so she was probably hovering outside her bedroom door like a hesitant ghost)._

_“Now, if we’re done with this, can you please take me to the hospital because I think my wrist is broken.”_

**

It was quieter now, without Octavia. The summer was hot and long, and she was supposed to get there in two days — and those two days couldn’t go by fast enough. (She called Raven every day — sometimes twice a day — in the meantime, voice warm and teasing and clearly very, very bored. She said she missed Raven. Raven missed her too)

She was having trouble sleeping. Again.

She had sort of gotten used to Octavia sleeping next to her (even though it wasn’t an everyday thing, more like 2-3 nights a week) and now, a month into the summer, her mind was seemingly punishing her body for her girlfriend’s absence. It wasn’t like she _needed_ Octavia to be able to sleep, but… but she had gotten used to it. And it had always been an _option_ , even if it wasn’t a necessity. But now she didn’t have that option; Octavia was hours away with no way to get to her.

And she couldn’t fucking sleep.

It wasn’t uncommon for blind people to develop circadian cycle problems. With no visual cues as to the time of day, one, two sleepless nights in a row could throw your entire body into turmoil.

And Raven was pushing two straight weeks without a good night’s sleep.

She thought about calling Octavia, just to have something to do. She wasn’t totally sure what time it was, but when she pressed a button on her watch, it said, in its mechanical voice, “Three twenty-two a.m.”

She sighed and rolled over. Fuck. She hadn’t thought it was later than midnight. She was really fucked up. And now she couldn’t call Octavia because she couldn’t wake her up; that was just rude.

She stood and made her way through the dark apartment, into the kitchen. Maybe some water would help her get to bed.

“Oh!” A startled voice said when she walked into the kitchen.

Raven paused. “Clarke?” She guessed.

“Ye–yeah. Hey, Raven. What’s up?”

Raven frowned. “What are you doing awake at three in the morning?”

“Oh I was just… you know, had to get some…” Clarke sighed, and she thought she heard her slump against the refrigerator. “Lexa and I were having sex and I got hungry and needed a snack.”

Raven pulled a face. “Well… I guess it’s cool that you didn’t lie about it. I’m surprised I didn’t hear you, though. Usually I have to put in earplugs.”

Clarke laughed. “Yeah Lexa can get… loud.”

“Understatement of the century.”

“We were… trying to be considerate, tonight.”

Raven arched an eyebrow. “That never occurred to you before.”

“Well we felt bad. Lexa mentioned that you hadn’t been sleeping well.” Raven shifted where she stood. “Is that why you’re awake? You haven’t been to sleep yet?”

Raven sighed. “No, I haven’t. It’s just… I don’t know, I’m exhausted and I want to sleep, I do, but… I just can’t fall asleep.”

“Don’t you… I mean… Well I saw a prescription bottle in the bathroom. Couldn’t you—?”

Raven shook her head. “I don’t like the pills. They give me really freaky dreams.”

“Yeah. Yeah I get that.” A moment of silence. “Have you called Octavia?”

Raven shook her head. “I don’t want her to worry.”

“She wouldn’t mind coming down early. I know she’s dying to get out of her mom’s house.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience her. Besides, I’m fine. She’ll be here in two days and then I’ll hopefully be able to sleep better. I can survive another two days.”

“Okay,” Clarke didn’t sound sure, “if you’re positive.”

“I am. Thanks for the concern though, Clarke.” They fell silent again. “Can I get some water? Are you done in here?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” Shuffling feet (Clarke moving out of the way, probably) and Raven walked past her, hands fumbling just a little before they hit a cup. She pulled it down, but as she was filling it up in the sink, something dawned on her, and she frowned suspiciously. “Clarke,” she said slowly, putting the cup down next to her, “are you naked right now?’

Clarke answered, much too loudly, saying, “No, that’s crazy! I’m not…” a beat, and then, resigned, “yeah, I am.”

Raven pulled a face and whirled around. “Dude! Not cool.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think it would bother you.”

Raven groaned. “Ugh. You two are disgusting. Get out of here.” She waved Clarke away, and the soft padding of feet, a door opening and closing, told her that she was once again alone.

When she was sure that Clarke was inside Lexa’s room again, she tipped her head back and laughed.

**

_Raven wished she could do more. She_ would _do more, if she could, but outside of comforting pats on the back and hesitantly-offered ice cream, she really didn’t know how she_ could _help._

_At least Lexa had stopped crying._

_She seemed to have skipped right on past ‘heartbreak’ and into ‘denial’ (or was it ‘acceptance’? What do you call it when your best friend decides to give up on relationships all together because of a bad breakup?)._

_“I shouldn’t have even bothered. Love is… love is weakness,” Lexa muttered lowly, almost under her breath, almost an after thought. Raven was almost positive that she wasn’t meant to hear it._

_But she did hear it. So she couldn’t ignore it. “That doesn’t sound like the hopeless romantic who talked to me about soulmates and destiny two years ago.”_

_“I am_ not _a hopeless romantic, Raven. I have experienced love. I have found that I don’t like it. If I never have to deal with it again, that would be fine by me.”_

_“Lexa…” Raven sighed, “sorry but that… that’s such bullshit. You can’t honestly think like that.”_

_“It’s easy for you to say. It’s always easy for someone in a relationship to judge those of us who aren’t in them.”_

_“I am not_ judging _you because you’re single. I’m judging you because you seem to have completely forgotten that you actually do believe in love and soulmates.”_

_“If Costia wasn’t my soulmate I don’t know who—”_

_“Costia was_ not _your soulmate. Lex… you totally weren’t in the same place emotionally. Costia is graduating this year. She’s starting a full-time job in the fall, she’s moving all the way across the country…”_

_“Just because she is older than me does not mean that we couldn’t be—”_

_“You’re like the same person, Lexa! You and Costia are too similar. You’re both so… so stubborn, so grounded, so logical. Two people like that… they can never survive together. If you hadn’t broken up now you would have… maybe two, three years down the line at the most. This was the best thing for you; you_ have _to see that.”_

_Lexa’s voice was cold when she said, “I don’t see how_ you _could possibly see it if I cannot.”_

_Raven recoiled. “Really? A blind crack? You’re really going there, Lexa?”_

_“I don’t understand how you are supposed to have more insight into my relationship that I do, considering—”_

_“You’re too invested in the relationship, and you always have been. You can’t step back and see what it’s like! You’re in love with Costia, I get it, but she broke up with you, and now—”_

_Lexa stood from the couch. “I think I’m going to stay with Anya tonight.”_

_Raven huffed. “Real mature, Lex. Just walk away when things get tough.”_

_“I didn’t walk away, Raven,” Lexa growled. “Costia did.”_

_The door slammed behind her and Raven sighed and slumped into the couch, rubbing at her eyes._

_Lexa eventually came back to their room, voice low and sad and increasingly apologetic. Raven forgave her, of course she did, because Lexa was her best friend. Lexa was hurt and hurting, Lexa was prone to lashing-out when she got upset or flustered, Lexa was stupid and stubborn and irrational. But she also_ loved _Lexa, faults and all._

_She forgave her easily._

_And months later, when their positions were reversed — Raven crushed and downtrodden and furious and upset and heartbroken and single for the first time in two years — Lexa was there, right by her side with ice cream and soft words and an understanding that can only be born from experience._

_They made it through. They were nothing if not survivors. It would take more than a little heartbreak to ruin them._

_It wasn’t easy. After Finn Raven had trouble sleeping — a problem that would continue to resurface for the rest of her life — and there were days when she went completely without sleep, until she was drawn out and strung out and exhausted and sick._

_Lexa did her best, but eventually it moved past “I can’t sleep tonight” and towards “I can’t sleep any nights because my body can’t tell what time it is” and that was never easy. But Lexa did all that she could, and Raven loved her that much more because of it._

_Two psychologists and a sleeping pill prescription later (about two months of restlessness, of sleepless nights) and she finally started to feel like herself again._

_This was almost exactly two years before she would meet Octavia._

_**_


	7. Chapter 7

Fall rolled around as it always did: slowly and inevitably. Clarke and Octavia have moved into their own apartment, just a ten-minute walk from Lexa and Raven’s building. Classes started up again for Clarke and Octavia, and Lexa — the only one of them now in grad school — was finding herself increasingly busier and busier as her classes demanded more of her and as her professors assigned more work. Readings started to stack up; she had briefs to review and cases to go over, she had tests to study for and the BAR to think about. Law school was demanding and strenuous, which… okay, she had anticipated as much, but anticipating it and actually experiencing it were two very different things.

And it was getting harder and harder, trying to balance her time between school and the library and her apartment and Clarke’s place. She was spending fewer and fewer nights asleep in her own bed, because Clarke lived just that much closer to the law school, and if she didn’t _sleep_ there she would never actually get to see her. She went from classes to the library to home, and at home she worked, and if she ever wanted to spend any time with Clarke she had to either force herself away from her studies to go out (which was practically painful for her to consider, given the amount of stress she was currently under) or else work at Clarke’s place (and Clarke, as much as she loved her, was a bit distracting and prone to restlessness) or else she had to sleep there.

And it was pretty obvious which one she was bound to choose.

But it was taking its toll on her.

Two months of this life and Lexa was at the end of her rope. And Clarke had noticed.

“Lexa, this is ridiculous,” Clarke said one night after Lexa had thrown herself onto Clarke’s bed at well-past one in the morning. “You’re spreading yourself too thin.”

Lexa could barely muster up the energy to glare. “I needed fresh clothes from my apartment, Clarke. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

“No… baby that isn’t it.” Clarke sank down on the bed next to her and curled into Lexa’s side. Lexa shifted to make more room for her. “You just… you take classes all day and then you do your homework all through the evening and then you drag yourself back to your place to get a bag so that you can spend the night with me so that we can actually see each other and it… it’s clearly too much for you.”

Lexa sat up, just a little bit, but the intimidating look she was attempting to shoot Clarke’s way was diminished by the fact that her baggy sweatshirt had a suspicious-looking stain on the front (coffee, from a day earlier) and her glasses were haphazardly placed on her nose, and her hair was getting frizzy as it slipped from the loose bun Lexa had secured it in.

“Are you trying to suggest that I spend _less_ time with you, Clarke? Or perhaps less time doing my _work_ and getting my _degree_?”

Clarke sighed and rolled her eyes. “No you defensive asshole, I’m trying to _suggest_ that you move in with me.”

Lexa froze. “What?”

Clarke shrugged. “Move in with me. My place is closer to your school, you can spend time with me without having to worry about running home to shower or change clothes… you can keep all of your books here and we can study together and work together…” She grinned invitingly. “What do you say?”

Lexa kissed her. Clarke laughed, pulled the glasses off of Lexa’s face, and kissed back.

**

This was one of her favorite places to be. She felt like such a fucking sap whenever she thought it, but it was true.

Just… being here, lying on top of Octavia’s warm body, ear pressed to chest, listening to the quiet _thump thump thump_ of Octavia’s soft beating heart. Their legs slotted together, Octavia’s fingers combing through her hair, soft and quiet and sleepy in the early evening, not worrying about school or work or money or responsibilities or siblings or parents. Just… being here, quiet and soft and present.

She planted her hands on either side of Octavia’s torso and pushed herself up so that she was hovering just over Octavia’s face.

Octavia laughed, quiet and happy. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to kiss you.” Raven smiled and bent down and claimed Octavia’s lips in an easy kiss, in a lazy embrace, all loose and soft, tongues teasing and brushing but no teeth, no wandering hands. She pulled away after a moment, forehead resting on Octavia’s, and she smiled. She wasn’t sure Octavia was looking at her, her eyes could still be closed, but she didn’t smile for Octavia; she smiled because she couldn’t help it; she couldn’t do anything _but_ smile in that moment.

“I love you,” Octavia said quietly against her lips.

Raven’s grin widened to an impossible degree. Something in her heart felt like it was seizing as her pulse pounded harder in her ears, as her face flushed and as her stomach jumped. “Yeah?” She whispered.

Octavia nodded against her skin. “Yeah. I really love you.”

Raven bent her head up and placed a soft kiss to Octavia’s lips, and when she responded, it was the easiest thing in the world. “I love you too.”

“Yeah?”

Raven laughed. “Yeah, you idiot. I’ve loved you for a while.”

A shaky breath against her lips. “You have?”

Raven shook her head. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No I just… I just feel really lucky. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Well don’t go all soft on me. We’ve been dating for over half a year.” A beat, a few breaths exchanged, and then Raven had to laugh again. “How could I not fall in love with you?”

“I think that all the time.”

**

“Hey Raven, we need to talk.”

Raven sat up straighter on the couch, head cocked in the way that indicated to Lexa that she was listening intently. “Is something wrong?”

Lexa worried her lip between her teeth and sat down next to her roommate. “No, nothing’s wrong. Things are actually… they’re actually _really_ good.”

Raven smiled. “Okay so what’s up? You started this conversation in the scariest way possible, I hope you know that.”

Lexa laughed uncomfortably and pushed a hand through her hair. “I know. Sorry about that.” She fell silent until Raven nudged her with her arm, silently prodding her forward. “Clarke asked me to move in with her.”

Raven’s smile only grew wider. “Are you kidding? That’s amazing!” A pause, a beat. “Wait… you _are_ doing it right?”

Lexa chuckled. “ _Yes_ I’m doing it. We just have to pack up my stuff and move it. And look, I know our lease is for another four months—”

“Dude that is _so_ not important.”

“No, no it is. Look I’ve got enough money to pay my half of the rent until then, but afterwards…”

Raven’s face fell as the realization dawned on her. “Oh,” she said quietly.

They hadn’t really ever discussed this — the possibility of one of them moving out. Raven had sort of assumed they would live together forever. ( _Why_ had she assumed that? Of course that was an unrealistic thought. But how was she supposed to know Lexa — sweet, stoic, loyal, but sometimes cold Lexa — would find love with someone else after Costia? How was she supposed to know Lexa would meet her soulmate?)

It wasn’t a _problem_ that Lexa was moving out, not really, not for the foreseeable future, but… But.

But Raven couldn’t afford a place this big on her own. She would either have to move out or find a roommate. But she _hated_ moving, hated entering a new space and having to re-learn her way between rooms and through doorways and around furniture and for the first few months she was always battered and bruised, hitting toes and hips and elbows and shins on things that she couldn’t always remember were there. It _sucked_ having to readapt.

But she couldn’t afford a place this big on her own. And she also _hated_ the prospect of a roommate. She had few friends outside of Lexa, Clarke, Octavia, and Anya and Lincoln — and Anya had her own place and Lincoln already had two roommates so he probably wouldn’t want to leave them just to room with her, so _that_ was out.

And she wasn’t really comfortable inviting a stranger into her home to live with her. She only liked living with people she trusted, people who acted normally around her, people who could help her out if she needed it (but she never wanted to ask for help so it was a confusing sort of give-and-take on that front) and people who wouldn’t move her things around or touch the furniture and people who wouldn’t take advantage of her visual impairment and steal her stuff like they thought she couldn’t _notice_ (like her first roommate freshman year had done before Lexa had kicked her ass).

So far the list of people who fit those requirements was composed of exactly two names: her mother and Lexa.

Lexa seemed to have already arrived at the same conclusion. “Look, I know it sucks, and it totally does, and that’s why I thought we should talk about it. Because if you want me to stay here I will, or Clarke can move in with us, or—”

Raven shook her head. “No way. You’re gonna move in with your girlfriend and you’re gonna be fucking thrilled about it and I am not going to take no for an answer.”

“I’m not kidding, Raven, we could live here too…”

“You _can’t_ live here; I know how much shit Clarke owns, Octavia talks about it all the time. And every time I’m over at their place I’m tripping on stuff.” She shook her head again. “Nope, her living here would be a disaster, she’s such a slob.” It was quiet between them. “You’re smiling aren’t you?”

Lexa laughed. “Yeah, I really am. God I just love her so much Raven. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”

“Yeah yeah I get it your life is perfect and colorful and blah blah blah.” But her voice was soft and teasing and there was a small smirk on her lips. “Rub it in my face some more.”

“Well… I mean have you considered… what about—?” Lexa cut off abruptly, and Raven frowned.

“What about what?” Lexa didn’t respond. “Lex what were you going to say?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Raven glowered and felt anger bubble in her chest. “Goddammit Lexa I hate it when you lie to me I know you’re a shit liar but it really isn’t fair when I can’t see you so stop being an asshole and just tell me already.”

Lexa sighed from next to her and Raven knew that she had won. Lexa did not deal well with guilt of any kind.

“Well what about Octavia?”

Raven recoiled slightly in surprise, the frown only deepening on her brow. “What do you _mean_ , ‘what about Octavia?’”

“What if Octavia moves in here?” Raven fought to form words but found that her voice was failing her. “I mean it isn’t such a crazy thought, is it? Aren’t you guys serious?”

“I mean… I mean _yeah_ we’re serious, but…”

“But what? She’s spent the night, she’s seen you when you first wake up and she isn’t horrified or running for the hills yet, so… it can’t be _all_ bad.”

“No Lex it isn’t… it isn’t bad _at all_ it’s sort of… well it has sort of been perfect and that’s sort of the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to ruin it. Isn’t that… you don’t think it’s moving a little quickly? I mean she’ll definitely think it’s moving a little quickly, you know how Octavia is with—”

“Raven she _loves_ you,” Lexa cut in quietly, “I know she loves you… I’ve seen it in her face, in the way she acts around you, in the things she does.” Raven flushed. “I know you feel it, too; in the way she touches you and in the way she walks next to you, and you can hear it in her voice and feel it on her body and I _know_ you know she’s crazy about you. So why don’t you ask her to move in with you? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Raven was quiet for several long moments before she cleared her throat and shifted on the couch. “She could realize how difficult it is living full-time with someone who’s blind and she could decide I’m not worth all the trouble and she could leave me.”

Lexa did not speak for a tense, silent minute. “Well… but that’s like the _worst_ case scenario.”

Raven punched her. “You are _not_ helping.”

Lexa chuckled. “Raven I’m joking. You’re thinking crazy things. I’ve known you for almost ten years now, and I haven’t ‘ _realized’_ that you’re not worth the trouble. What makes you think Octavia would think any different?”

And Raven did not have an answer for her.

**

Lexa moving out was both a good and bad thing.

 _Good_ : Lexa and Clarke were happy; they were in love; they were living together and starting to really seriously plan a life together, and Raven was thrilled for them. She loved Clarke, she loved Lexa, and she only wanted what was best for all of them.

 _Good_ : With the apartment all to herself, Octavia could be over as often as she liked, without worrying about keeping Lexa’s stuff in its place or keeping quiet if Lexa was already asleep or watching TV too loudly if Lexa was studying.

 _Good_ : Octavia was coming over more and more frequently, because her apartment was starting to feel a little crowded.

 _Bad_ : Octavia’s apartment was starting to feel a little crowded. It wasn’t a bad thing, not really, but… but it was starting to feel a little cramped, over there. It was a little strange having all four of them spending a large amount of time in an apartment really only built for two people. It wasn’t _disastrous_ , but it was a little weird.

 _Good_ : Lexa wasn’t leaving dishes in the sink any more.

 _Bad_ : She now had to do all of the dishes on her own.

 _Good_ : She only ever had to have enough food in the house for herself and sometimes for Octavia. She didn’t have to worry about Lexa and Clarke, too. She didn’t have to worry about making sure that there was enough meat-free food in the house for Lexa to be able to survive; she didn’t have to buy those gross crackers Lexa liked to eat; she didn’t have to shop for two people; she could buy Gushers without having to face Lexa’s reprimanding voice and condescending tone _(“I’m just worried about your health, Raven. And those things are really bad for your teeth”_ ).

 _Bad_ : She had to do all of the shopping by herself. It was nice, sometimes, to be able to go to the store and just pick out what she wanted. But it was also… fuck, it was hard. It was really, really hard, because most grocery stores weren’t exactly handicap-accessible for blind people. And she did her best, she really did, but it… it was intimidating, sometimes. Sometimes she felt like she was taking too long. And she only went to one store (the same store she had always gone to) so she knew the layout pretty well, but if they decided to change things? To move aisles around? If the workers she was familiar with weren’t on duty that day, weren’t around to help her pick things? If the cashier was rude? If she was taking too long?

It was just hard, sometimes. She never liked to admit it (and she would deny it until her dying day) but she found that she was saving her shopping trips for the days when Octavia would be over, more and more often. And she hated it, she hated feeling weak and incapable, but… but at the same time she _knew_ , she knew her limitations. She knew that shopping with Octavia was about 400 times faster than shopping on her own.

And she didn’t _like_ that she felt like she had to do it, but… Well, if Octavia noticed, she didn’t say anything.

 _Good_ : The apartment was usually always quiet when she wanted to work or read or focus on something.

 _Bad_ : The apartment was usually always quiet.

It was just… it was a little lonely. And yeah, she liked living on her own well enough, she liked the independence of it, the newness of it, she liked the quiet and she liked that no one was around to surprise her, but also… also it was _quiet_. And it was a little lonely. And she _missed_ Lexa. She was _there_ , she was always a phone call away, they still had dinner together twice a week (usually at Octavia and Clarke and Lexa’s place), but it was… it was different, now. She knew it would be, she was always prepared for it, but… though she was prepared, in theory, she just wasn’t totally ready for just exactly how different it would be.

“Have you thought about getting a dog?” Octavia asked one day in the early winter, when it was just the two of them sharing the warmth of Raven’s bed on a late Sunday morning.

Raven paused in her reading. “Like a puppy?” She asked, frowning. “That feels like a lot of work.”

“No. No I meant like… like a guide dog. A trained one.”

Raven froze and bit her lip. She _had_ actually thought about it before. Not really recently, but… before she went off to college her mom had basically tried to force her into getting one. At the time she had refused because she was determined to prove that she could live alone, by herself, without assistance (like a regular adult), but now… now the apartment was pretty cold and quiet and honestly… a dog didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

“I’ve thought about it,” she answered quietly, truthfully. “But I never really considered it very seriously.”

“How come?”

Raven shrugged. “Not that many blind people actually use guide dogs. I mean… they’re invaluable, for those who _do_ use them, but they also… they’re a pet, just like any other pet. They have to be walked and fed and played with and… it’s a lot. It would… it would _be_ a lot.”

“Okay. You don’t have to… I just thought, maybe. I know it gets lonely here.”

Raven smiled. “Oh it’s not so bad. I have this girl who likes to come over _all the time_ , so I never really have a moment to myself.”

Octavia laughed. “Oh yeah? Sounds like some girl, if she’s willing to spend all of this time with you. You’re terrible company.”

“Oh she is pretty incredible.” Raven smirked. “Don’t tell my girlfriend about her though, because it’s kind of a secret—”

“You’re terrible. You’re lucky I don’t smack you.” Octavia’s teasing voice said from next to her. She slid a little closer and let her cold feet slip over Raven’s.

“That’s domestic abuse!” Raven shouted in mock-affront.

“It’s only domestic abuse if I _actually_ hit you.”

Raven gasped. “You wouldn’t. I knew all of that time with Lincoln has been bad for you. He’s a bad influence. I forbid you from seeing him ever again.”

Octavia laughed and only slid closer. Raven felt the indent of her arm right next to her side, and she smiled. “You can touch me,” she said quietly, and no sooner had the words left her mouth than Octavia’s hand was over her side, onto her stomach, providing light pressure.

“But babe,” she whined, her fingers pressing into the soft skin of Raven’s stomach, “if I stop working out with Lincoln I’ll lose all of my muscle tone. I’ll get weak and fat and ugly.”

Raven pushed her book off of her lap and rolled over so that she was facing Octavia. “I would still love you if you were weak and fat.”

“Ugh, no I would never put you through that.”

Raven laughed and shook her head. “You could never be ugly to me, O,” she said quietly. “It’s impossible.”

It was silent for a few seconds. The only sound which passed between them was the light _whoosh_ of air leaving lungs. “Well… shit. That was really fucking sweet.”

Raven grinned. “I can be sweet if I want to.”

“Yeah, I know but… damn babe, you’re making me feel like I’m not pulling my weight. Here I am, teasing you about me getting fat, and you’re being just… the literal nicest person in the world.”

Raven laughed. “I’m far from the nicest person in the world.”

“Well you’re a complete sap around me.”

Raven tilted forward and kissed her. And it was… it was nice. In moments like these it was easy to forget that her apartment was feeling pretty cold and empty, it was easy to forget that Octavia would be going back to her own place in the morning, it was easy to forget that they weren’t doing this all the time, that they weren’t living like this permanently.

Raven’s stomach swooped.

She should really ask Octavia to move in with her.

**

Lexa moving in was both a good thing and a bad thing, and so Octavia wasn’t totally sure how she felt about it.

 _Good_ : She got to spend a lot more time with Clarke, because Clarke wasn’t splitting her time between two apartments and two commitments and two lives.

 _Bad(ish?)_ : Spending time with Clarke now included spending time with Lexa. Which was _fine_ , she wasn’t _complaining_ about it, because she liked Lexa a _lot_. Lexa was great; she was nice and funny and sweet (and a little intense); she was a quiet roommate; she didn’t shower forever in the morning; she at least replaced the milk when she finished it (unlike Clarke); she didn’t leave shit laying around on the floor for just anyone to trip on (unlike Clarke). But spending time with Clarke now basically also entailed spending time with Lexa. And she liked Lexa a _lot_ ; she considered Lexa one of her best friends. But Clarke was _Clarke_ , and sometimes she wanted to spend time with Clarke without spending time with Lexa (but it sounded _horrible_ to say that so she didn’t bring it up). Sometimes she just wanted a quiet evening alone with her best friend to talk about something dumb that Harper had texted her, or to laugh about Bellamy’s recently failed romantic relationship. And… she _could_ do that with Lexa around, too, but… but it was weirder with Lexa there. She had to spend so much time stopping and explaining backstory that by the time she got down to what she _actually_ wanted to say she wasn’t all that interested in the story any longer. But that was hardly a significant problem; hardly more than an inconvenience, so Octavia didn’t say anything.

 _Good_ : Lexa was a great roommate. Octavia loved having her around and she never grumbled about doing chores. She was clean and quiet and did her fair share of dishes and laundry.

 _Bad(ish?)_ : There was basically no space in the bathroom cupboard anymore, what with all of their makeup and with all of their combined shampoos and deodorants and toothpastes. It wasn’t a _big_ deal but it was a little annoying. Like… Octavia wasn’t about to say anything about it, of course not, but… she was still allowed to grumble and sigh to herself when she went to open to cupboard in the morning and mascara and eyeliner fell all over the place.

 _Good_ : With three people paying the rent she had a lot more money laying around, a lot more money to spare for food and clothes and dates with Raven. Having two roommates was definitely cheaper than having one.

 _Bad_ : Clarke and Lexa had a lot of sex; and it was _loud_ sex, most of the time. They did their best to be quiet and considerate, they tried to wait until she was out of the apartment, but she wasn’t away _every_ night, and they were riding the high of the honeymoon stage of living together. She didn’t _blame_ them; she just couldn’t pretend that she really _loved_ listening to them go at it at eleven-thirty at night when she had class the next morning (she bought some pretty good earplugs after about a week — Raven’s suggestion).

 _Good_ : Raven’s apartment was now totally empty, so they never had to worry about someone walking in or interrupting them.

 _Bad_ : Raven’s apartment was now totally empty, and it worried her. Not because Raven couldn’t take care of herself; of course she could, Octavia never doubted that she could. But… but it was hard going from having a roommate fulltime to never having a roommate; hard to go from being constantly with someone to being alone for a lot of time. And she didn’t have much to fill the silence. Raven hated iPods, she hated listening to music with headphones in, she had trouble using TVs because she couldn’t see what she was clicking on, and so it must be so… so _quiet_. Raven never complained, of course she never did. But Octavia wondered, sometimes, just how lonely she got.

 _Not Really Good or Bad Just Weird_ : Lexa kept dropping all of these hints to her about “going to see Raven” or “spending time with your girlfriend, Octavia” and it was… sometimes it felt like Lexa trying to kick her out of her own goddamn apartment, but the one time she brought it up Lexa just stared at her with those big, wide, green eyes and she looked so _upset_ that Octavia had quickly dismissed her complaint as a joke. So… Lexa wasn’t kicking her out, but… but she was still weird about the whole Raven thing. It was like she was trying to get Octavia to spend more time over there.

And… whatever, that wasn’t a problem, Octavia _liked_ spending time with Raven. She liked Raven’s apartment, she liked the little reprieve she got from Clarke and Lexa’s love-nest (she loved Clarke and Lexa but they were a little much to be around, sometimes, what with the constant physical contact and the soft, whispered words).

Also, Clarke had been painting like a fiend recently. She was trying to get some stuff displayed in some local galleries (which Octavia was fully supportive of) and her professor at school had been absolutely _thrilled_ when she changed her focus from charcoal drawings to oil paints, so she was working twice as hard to prove herself.

Octavia was proud of her, really she was.

But their fucking apartment smelled like paint _all the time_. And Lexa clearly didn’t mind (and Octavia didn’t mind _either_ , not really) but the smell of it got to her, sometimes. It made her head spin and her eyes water after too long and she had to step out, she had to go to Raven’s or call Lincoln and go to the gym because sometimes… fuck sometimes those goddamn fumes really got to her.

And Clarke had to do all of her own laundry now because oil paints _really_ didn’t like to come out of your clothes and about 40% of what she owned had some kind of paint on it, now. Their sink was always getting clogged with congealed colors and Clarke’s hands were now almost permanently dyed some shade of blue or green or red.

And look, Octavia wasn’t going to complain because this is what Clarke _did_ ; this is what Clarke wanted to do with the rest of her life. And she would suck it up and live in a painter’s apartment and smell the chemicals and deal with the fucked up sink and run out and get Clarke new brushes at 3 in the afternoon when she was stuck in class and didn’t have time to make the trip… she would do it all because she _loved_ Clarke, and Clarke was her best friend, and Clarke meant everything to her.

But, at the same time… fuck, sometimes she just wanted to go to sleep without smelling paint and sometimes she just wanted to pick up a cup and not have to worry about whether there was paint-infused water inside and sometimes she just wanted to go to sleep at night without listening to Clarke and Lexa fuck and sometimes she just wanted to be able to find her own makeup in the morning without having to dig through a fucking department store’s worth of product in her own fucking bathroom and—

Okay, so maybe living with Clarke and Lexa was bothering her more than she cared to admit.

**

Raven was nervous. She was nervous and her hands were shaking a little and she kept running anxious fingers through her hair and she knew that Octavia could tell, because any time Octavia had tried to crack a joke or relieve some of the horrible tension that had built between them Raven had only smiled tightly and laughed uncomfortably.

And Octavia was running out of ideas.

Raven heard her fork hit the table, she heard Octavia breathe in deeply, and then her soft voice asked, desperate and imploring, “Raven did I… did I do something? Are you… are you mad at me?”

Raven’s head shot up. “What? No!” She exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. “No I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what’s wrong? All night you’ve barely said a word to me, you’re just… just playing with your food and not eating and I’m super worried, babe, not gonna lie.”

Raven took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is all me, it’s me being the crazy one.”

“This sounds suspiciously like a, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech and I’m super not down with that, just so you know.” Octavia laughed, but when Raven didn’t say anything she fell deathly quiet, the laughter dying in her throat. “Oh,” she said, softly, “oh I was just kidding. I really… this _isn’t_ a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech… is it?”

Raven shook her head. “No. No it isn’t.”

A breath of relief. “Did you have a bad day? Did something happen where you—”

“Do you still have that spare key I gave you?” Raven blurted out, interrupting.

A pause. “Yeah,” and then, quieter, “do you… need it back, or something?”

“No, no I just… I thought you could use it.”

“Use it? I already use… I used it tonight.”

“No I mean… I mean more often. Use it more often. Like… like you could use it… all the time. To–to be here. All the time. Like… permanently.”

A beat. Octavia’s chair scraped against the floor as it was pushed back. Footsteps brought her close, body heat warming the left side of Raven’s body. She bent down so she was crouching next to Raven and asked, quietly, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Raven exhaled shakily. “I think so? But I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

Octavia laughed, voice bright and clear and suddenly relieved. “Has this whole crazy thing been your way of asking me to move in with you? Is that why you’ve been quiet and weird all night?”

Raven blushed. “I’m really not good with…” she shifted a bit, “with all of this… am I?”

Octavia laughed, “Babe no, you are _terrible_ at this.” She paused. “Can I touch your arm?”

Raven nodded and felt a warm hand glide down her bicep and long fingers intertwine with hers.

“Did you think I would say no if you asked me directly?”

“No I just… most women like romance, you know? Like… candles and flowers and… mystery and… all that shit. So I thought… I thought nice dinner and… flowers and…” Raven blushed again. “I’m sorry. I should have just asked you.”

Octavia’s fingers traced the back of her hand. “You shouldn’t have been worried about it. I’m not like most women, you know.”

Raven huffed. “And what exactly is wrong with _most_ women?”

Octavia’s breath was suddenly very close, ghosting over Raven’s mouth and causing something deep in her chest to clench and stop. It was _still_ like this, every time they kissed, like a rubber band was pulling tight between her stomach and her heart just waiting to snap.

“Can I kiss you? Or are you going to keep being crazy?”

“You can kiss me,” she whispered, and sighed as soft lips claimed her own. When Octavia pulled away seconds later, Raven continued in a low voice, “So is that a yes?”

Octavia laughed. “I can’t imagine Clarke and Lexa will be particularly _devastated_ by this turn of events.”

“Me either.”

Octavia moved slowly towards her, letting her feel the change in air temperature, the steadiness of her approaching breaths, before kissing her softly again. “Let me take you to bed? I’ll reward you for all this… romance.” A soft kiss was pressed to her cheek. “How about it?”

Raven grinned. “Yes, but I have a request.”

Octavia stood and took Raven by the hand, allowing the other woman to lead her into her bedroom, and Raven’s heart fluttered at the trust, at the sheer amount of control Octavia was willing to give up… that she was comfortable and trusting enough to let a blind woman lead her through a dark apartment at night.

“Does this request involve us losing some clothes? Because if it’s anything else I’m sorry to say that I cannot accommodate you at this time.”

“You are such a nerd.”

She shivered as Octavia’s breath suddenly washed over her ear, sending a jolt down Raven’s spine and to the juncture between her legs. “You think it is _insanely_ sexy, though, don’t you?”

Raven turned and seized Octavia’s lips with bruising force, tongues dancing and hands gliding. “As much fun as that would be to play out… and we _will_ some other day, Octavia, you mark my words—” Raven was slightly breathless as she pulled away, “I want something a little different tonight.”

“Different how? I’m up for anything.”

“I want you to turn the lights out, completely, and pull down those crazy thick curtains Lexa installed in here one day as a joke to ‘keep the sun out when I’m hung-over.’”

“You want us to have sex in the pitch black?” Octavia pulled back, just slightly, and Raven almost retracted her request, when Octavia continued, “Not that I’m opposed; it sounds like fun. I just don’t think I understand…”

Raven kissed her. “I want you to feel what I feel, Octavia, just… just one time. I promise you it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

When Octavia kissed her this time Raven felt a small smile against her lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

And as Raven slipped her shirt over her head, and as she heard Octavia’s footsteps moving through the apartment and killing all of the useless light sources and drawing the blinds on all of the windows, Raven began to actually believe it.

––

“God… oh fuck, shit, _fuck_ … Jesus Christ.” Octavia’s words stumbled and slipped and fell away from her only to be replaced by heavy breathing and gasping moans and a twisting sort of writhing that her body had absolutely _never_ felt inclined to do before.

Raven’s tongue was dancing over her clit as two fingers plunged steadily in and out of her dripping core, and Octavia felt her whole body shuddering and quaking.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered as her back arched off the bed and something low in her stomach clenched. She yelped when one of Raven’s fingers – unseen and therefore unexpected – flicked over her nipple and Octavia came with the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced.

Spots exploded behind her eyes (and she could name them, the reds and the greens and the blues which made her heart beat faster and her clit throb harder against Raven’s tongue) and Raven continued to thrust into her, helping her ride out the aftershocks of the most intense sensation to ever sweep her body. And moments later, when she slid up Octavia’s sweaty and slick torso, nipping at any area she desired, Raven had never felt prouder.

“Fuck, Ray.” Octavia managed to croak through a scratched throat. Raven kissed her sweetly on the mouth. “ _Fuck_ you were really trying to prove a point, weren’t you?”

“Did it work?” Raven’s voice asked from above her, and Octavia laughed.

She breathed harder, and said, “Babe I’m making you pancakes everyday for the first month we’re living together.”

Raven kissed her, a smile on her mouth. “I like that idea.” After a moment of silence, she continued, “We’re going to be _living_ together.”

Octavia laughed and kissed her back, her right hand slipping down Raven’s soft stomach, feeling for the area she knew by heart. When her fingers touched soaked flesh, it was Octavia’s turn to grin. “Yeah we are,” she whispered, sinking two fingers inside up to the knuckle as Raven gasped and arched into her. Octavia nipped at her neck. “I can’t wait.”

**

“Are you happy about this? Moving out?”

Octavia laughed. “ _Yes_ Clarke, God, now stop asking me. I thought you would be thrilled about this, because now you and Lexa have your own place all to yourselves and you don’t have to confine your sex to your bedroom anymore.”

Clarke flushed and threw some of her bubble wrap at Octavia. “It always comes back to sex with you. You know we actually like… _talk_ and go on dates and love each other like regular people, don’t you?”

“Well I’m sorry that as your roommate all _I_ can notice, hear, and focus on is the wild, kinky sex you have in your bedroom — which is right across from mine, may I remind you for the hundredth time.”

“God buy a pair of earplugs or something.”

“Make your girlfriend be quieter! She sounds like a yapping dog when she cums.”

“Are you two talking about what I sound like in bed?” Lexa shouted from the common room, the low hum of the TV just audible from where Clarke and Octavia were packing up the kitchen. “Because that makes me very uncomfortable and I would like for you to stop it please.”

“Yeah _Clarke_ ,” Octavia said pointedly and loudly. Clarke flipped her off. “And yes, to answer your question again, I am _very_ happy about this.” Octavia smiled as Clarke turned back to the cabinet with all of their tea mugs in it. “You know how I feel about Raven… how I’ve felt for a while now. And she needed a roommate to be able to keep her place and I love her, so I’m totally happy to be moving in with her.”

“You don’t think it’s sort of soon?”

“Nah. I mean we’ve been seeing each other for almost eight months now… longer if you count the time before we were official. It feels like the right time; I’m not _just_ doing it because she needs the extra rent payment, but like… I _really_ love her, Clarke.”

“Then I’m happy for you O, really. I think this will be good for you; committing to someone, I mean,” she clarified when Octavia pulled a face.

Octavia smiled, glancing down at the collection of assorted dishware in front of her. “Hey can you pass me my blue mug? It’s up towards the top.”

“Sure thing.” Clarke stood on her toes and reached up to the top shelf and had her hand wrapped all the way around the mug (Bellamy had painted it in a make-your-own pottery class his senior year of high school and it was one of her most treasured possessions, partly because of how absolutely _ridiculous_ it looked) before Clarke spun around so quickly she nearly toppled over.

Octavia started. “Dude, what’s your problem?”

Clarke stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open, and it was only then — much too late to change what she had said — that Octavia’s heart fell.

She and Clarke stared at each other across the island in the middle of their kitchen, an ocean of space and silence between them.

Clarke strode forwards and grasped Octavia by the upper arm, and Octavia did not even protest as Clarke dragged her from the room and towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Lexa called from the couch.

“Just need some more packing tape, be back in a second babe!” Clarke called over her shoulder even as she was shoving Octavia out the door (with no shoes and no wallet, might she add).

When Clarke had shut the door firmly behind her she turned to face her oldest friend. “Talk. Now.”

Octavia shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit there’s nothing to talk about. What the fuck was that, Octavia? You can see _color_?”

“Look it isn’t a big deal…”

“It isn’t a big _deal_!?” Clarke yelled, but Octavia shushed her and pulled her further down the hall and away from their door and Lexa’s potentially eavesdropping ears.

“Be quiet, will you!”

“Oh my God…” She stared at Octavia, eyes wide with disbelief, “Oh my God you’ve met your soulmate. Oh my _God_ Octavia.”

“Would you stop _saying_ that?” She fidgeted with her hands. “Look it isn’t—”

“Octavia Blake if you’re about to say ‘it isn’t a big deal’ I swear to God I will hit you.” Octavia flushed and looked away. “You’ve met your fucking _soulmate_ , Octavia, what the fuck? Were you ever going to tell me?” Her eyes grew wider as something dawned on her. “Oh my God you’re going to move in with Raven when you’ve met your _soulmate_? That is… that is cruel.”

Octavia’s head snapped up and she glared. “Shut up. You don’t know anything,” she hissed, her words spitting fire. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me or this situation so why don’t you keep your mouth shut and keep this between us, okay?”

“Is… is Raven… does she know?”

“No, she doesn’t fucking _know_ , and we’re going to keep it that way, okay?”

“But… _why_? Why would you keep something like this from her?”

“Clarke this is really none of your—”

“Of _course_ it’s my business, you’re my best friend! And Raven is my friend too, and she deserves to know that—”

“I love her, okay, Clarke?” Clarke fell silent, her protests dying on her lips. “I love her, and I want to move in with her and… and I don’t know, maybe spend the rest of my life with her. And she… she doesn’t believe in soulmates and that’s _fine_ , that’s fine by me as far as I’m concerned, and none of this soulmate shit is going to ruin what I can definitively say is the greatest relationship of my life. She is the _best_ thing that has ever happened to me, Princess, and I am _not_ going to give that up just because… just because of some stupid _colors_.”

She and Clarke stared at each other, tears welling in both of their eyes (though for different reasons). “I just can’t believe you hid this from me,” Clarke whispered, eyes downturned and head ducked to avoid eye contact. “How long…?”

Octavia gritted her teeth but avoided a clear answer when she said, “A while.”

Clarke let out a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Octavia shrugged. “I didn’t tell _anyone_. I didn’t think… it doesn’t matter what I thought. Please don’t tell Lexa, I don’t… Raven can’t find out. Not… not like this.” Clarke pulled a face, looking uncertain, but Octavia stepped forward and gripped both of her shoulders, forcing Clarke to face her. “ _Promise_ me, Clarke, that you won’t tell Lexa about this. I couldn’t stand it if… this would break Raven’s heart and I won’t let that happen.”

“I promise,” she whispered, “but you have to tell her, don’t you? Eventually you have to—”

“I know Clarke, I know. Just… not now, okay? This is supposed to be a happy day. I’m moving in with the woman I love today so please just… just…” Octavia’s lip trembled as she tried not to cry, and Clarke, her resolve swiftly breaking, stepped forward and enveloped her in a tight hug.

When they walked back into the apartment ten minutes later (eyes dry and moderately put-together) and Lexa asked where the packing tape was, Clarke merely shrugged, and responded, “They were all out.”

**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the feedback; it has really been amazing. I don't usually post notes but I just wanted to say thank you. I read every single thing you write to me and it means a lot. So thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart.

Clarke kept shooting her these goddamn fucking knowing looks every time they were together and it was really starting to get on Octavia’s nerves.

Every time she was in the same room as Clarke now, it was like all she could do was glare pointedly at Octavia and shift in her seat and clear her throat.

And Octavia was really fucking sick of it.

Because she knew… she _knew_ she had to tell Raven. Knew that she had to suck it up and actually tell her girlfriend that they were soulmates. She had to. She knew this.

But Clarke staring her down like she had just declared her love for the Westboro Baptist Church every time they got together to have dinner wasn’t doing any good. It just made her angrier, made her more nervous. Every interaction with Clarke and Lexa was now loaded, because Clarke _knew_ , she knew that Octavia had found her soulmate (did she know that it was Raven? Did she assume; did she suspect? Did she think Octavia had some mystery lover on the side, separate and secret from her girlfriend? Did she suspect how long Octavia had been carrying this secret — heavy and weighted and thick — in her chest?) and Clarke _knew_ that she hadn’t told Raven.

And Lexa knew that there was something strange going on between Clarke and Octavia; she knew that they were fighting (or arguing? Or just furious at each other?) but she didn’t know why and no one would tell her. Octavia saw the frustration boiling just underneath Lexa’s skin whenever the three of them were together. Lexa was perceptive to a fault; she saw practically everything. Every time Clarke shot her a loaded look Lexa noticed; Octavia could _see_ Lexa noticing, could see the cogs at work in her brain, could see in the furrow of her brow all of the questions she was dying to ask.

Clarke hadn’t told. She hadn’t told Lexa anything, and she was absolutely furious about that — enraged and incensed that Octavia wouldn’t let her say anything. She said it was “affecting her relationship” because Lexa could sense a tension in their friendship and it was making her uncomfortable. Lexa didn’t want them to fight. Lexa was a born peace-keeper. Lexa hated conflict and avoided it at all cost (a strange quality in a woman studying to become a lawyer) and seeing Clarke and Octavia so obviously at odds with each other was seriously getting to her.

And with her classes and lectures and her work and with Octavia’s increasing unwillingness to be alone with Clarke, Lexa was fried. She was frustrated that her friends were hiding something from her, she was confused as to _why_ they were hiding it, she was worried that Clarke and Octavia were fighting about something significant (and Clarke wasn’t exactly reassuring her to the contrary) and she was worried about Octavia and she was worried about Raven and nothing was making any sense and she _didn’t like it_.

And all of this — Clarke’s quiet anger which was getting louder and louder, Lexa’s restless desire to be let in on a secret she did not understand the significance of, studying for her degree — was really starting to weigh on Octavia. She was full of anxiety, full of nerves. She didn’t know if Clarke would keep her promise; if she would tell Lexa; if she would tell _Raven_. She couldn’t be sure, because Lexa was getting pushier and pushier the longer Clarke and Octavia attempted to keep the secret from her (and honestly, it was all Clarke’s fault, because Octavia had been keeping this secret _just fine_ on her own, until Griffin had to go and find out. And Clarke was the world’s worst fucking liar). She wasn’t sure if Clarke would be able to keep her big mouth shut for much longer.

And that fucking terrified her.

And because she was anxious, because she was nervous and shaky and tense all the time, she was withdrawing into herself. She was getting quieter and quieter at night, she was spending more and more time in the library away from Raven and away from Lexa’s confused gaze and Clarke’s knowing glare and she _hated_ it. She hated it so much.

She hated the removal, the withdrawal, the isolation. She hated kissing Raven goodbye in the morning, unsure of when she would return at night. She hated slipping into the covers to join Raven’s already slumbering form. She hated hiding behind the excuses of classes and work and studying when it was so blatantly _not true_ that Raven _had_ to notice.

And one day, when she was sulking in a back corner of the library, bent over a book she was definitely not reading, Lexa’s heavy book bag fell right on top of her reading and Octavia jerked up, blinking her eyes in confusion.

Lexa towered over her, glowering, a snarl pulling at the corner of her mouth.

Octavia’s mouth went dry.

_Fuck. Clarke told her. She knows. She knows that I haven’t told Raven and she thinks that I’m cheating on her and she’s here to fucking kill me and this is where_ —

“Why are you here?” Lexa hissed, bending so that Octavia had to force her head even farther back to meet her eyes.

Octavia gulped. “Wh–what?”

“Why are you here? You should be at home with your girlfriend Octavia, not sulking and hiding in the library.”

“I… I’m not hiding.”

Lexa scoffed. Her face was still hard, her jaw clenched tight, and _fuck_ she was scary when she was like this. “Raven thinks you’re breaking up with her.”

Octavia’s back shot up until it was ramrod straight against her chair. “She _what_?” She asked, incredulously, pulse pounding and skin tingling and a tight pressure building behind her eyes.

“She thinks you’re breaking up with her. Because you’re _hiding in the library_ on a Friday night while your girlfriend sits at home _waiting for you_.” Lexa slammed a hand down on the table and Octavia jumped and could not speak. “Are you breaking up with her?” She snarled.

Octavia shook her head hard. “No I’m not. No I don’t… I don’t _want_ to.”

“Then fucking _go home_ and tell her that.”

Octavia started scrambling for her books. “Why didn’t she… she should have asked me.”

“You haven’t been talking to her, Octavia. You’ve been avoiding her and not coming home and she thinks it’s all her fault. Of course she wasn’t going to talk to you about it.”

Octavia shook her head. “Fuck Lexa I’m sorry. I just—”

“Stop talking to me and go _home_ , Octavia.”

Octavia nodded and fled.

\--

The door to their apartment crashed open but Octavia couldn’t even care.

She dropped her bag in the front hall (that wasn’t where it went, she would have to pick it up later, would have to hang it on the hook by the door so that Raven wouldn’t trip on it, but she could do that later and right now she couldn’t care less) and raced inside, only pausing long enough to kick the door closed behind her.

Raven, who had been laying down on the couch with her eyes closed, sat up suddenly. “Octavia? Is that you?”

“Yeah it’s me.” She crouched down, sitting on her knees on the floor in front of Raven. “Can I kiss you?”

Raven bit her lip and nodded and Octavia bent forwards, her lips barely ghosting over Raven’s. She wanted to… fuck, she had been a terrible person recently.

Her lips applied soft pressure; just enough for Raven to know that they were there but with no driving force behind them. She was seeking to comfort, not engage, not seduce, not revere.

She was seeking to apologize.

She pulled back and nuzzled her face into the side of Raven’s neck, breathing steady and hot air onto her skin. Raven’s hand — slow and tentative (Octavia’s heart clenched with guilt at the realization that Raven was afraid to touch her) — slid up the back of her neck and held her close.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against Raven’s collar. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been distant and weird and… and hiding. I’m _sorry_.” Raven nodded but otherwise didn’t say anything. “I’m not breaking up with you, Ray,” Octavia said, louder this time and more sure. She pulled back and made sure to look directly at Raven when she said, “I don’t want to break up.”

Raven let out a shaky breath and turned her head so that they were no longer facing each other. “Lexa told you?” She asked, throat thick with emotion.

“Yeah. She accosted me in the library and basically told me to get my head out of my ass and go home to my smoking hot girlfriend and stop being such a complete cock.”

Raven snorted, even though it looked like she was trying not to. “Yeah.” She shook her head. “Sounds like her.”

“I never meant for… I’m sorry that I ever made you think that I was doubting us. Because I’m _not_ , Raven.” Raven bit her lip, head down, fingers clenched tightly in the lap. “Why didn’t you… you didn’t ask me what was wrong. I thought that… you’re usually so good about calling me on my bullshit and making me realize when I’ve fucked up. But you didn’t say anything this time.”

Raven took a deep and shuddering breath. “I thought… I was worried you were… that it was because of us living together. That you thought it was… too hard or…” Raven shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “You just stopped _talking_ to me Octavia. What was I supposed to think? You were pulling away and I was worried that if I said something it would just make it all end faster. It felt like you were avoiding me and I didn’t…”

Octavia wanted to kick herself. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. It wasn’t… you didn’t do _anything_. I love you so much I don’t want us to break up.”

“Then why did you…?” Raven shook her head and took in a shaky breath, her shoulders moving up and down dramatically. She wiped at her eyes. “I want to be respectful of your space and everything O, I want you to have your own time and I want you to be independent and I’m not clingy or anything; I want you to be able to do what you like without checking every little thing by me but… but you have to _talk to me_. I don’t know what you’re thinking a lot of the time and it doesn’t help when you start avoiding me. I want you to be your own person but you can’t just shut me out like that.”

Octavia nodded solemnly. “Okay. Okay I hear you. I’m sorry.”

Raven shook her head. “Stop apologizing just… just _be_ here. Please. Just… just stay and talk to me and live with me and tell me when something’s bothering you.”

“If I ever do something like this again you have to let me know. Hit me or yell at me or…” A deep breath. “I’m never trying to hurt you Raven, and I _hate_ that that’s how I made you feel. I never want to do it again.”

And Raven smiled at her (but her smile looked sad and Octavia couldn’t quite understand why) and she said, “Okay. We’ll just communicate better.”

“Okay. Yes. I can do that; I can do that easily.”

“And you’ll stop staying out late?”

“Yes. Yes, I won’t… I’m sorry. I got… I don’t know. I guess I was… nervous,” which wasn’t exactly a lie just as it wasn’t exactly the truth, “and I let it get the best of me and I hid instead of talking to you when I should have just talked to you.”

Raven nodded and bit her lip. “Okay.”

Octavia felt at once relieved and nauseous. She was so close. She had been so close to losing Raven. So close to…

Without even trying, she had almost driven her girlfriend away. Her nerves got to her, Clarke and her fucking knowing looks got to her, her anxiety and her fear and her trepidation got to her, and she hid like a goddamn fucking coward.

And it had almost driven Raven away.

She shook herself. She wouldn’t let it happen again. Clearly trying to talk to Raven… trying to tell her the truth… clearly Octavia wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready. And maybe Raven wasn’t ready either.

She felt fragile… she _looked_ fragile, bent low on their couch, her hands clasped in her lap. She looked so _young_. And Octavia’s heart and stomach clenched, because Raven was so _strong_ , usually; strong and regal and a force to be reckoned with.

And Octavia had almost wrecked her, just because she was a pussy-footing coward.

She had reduced her girlfriend to a worried little figure, curled up on the couch of a dark apartment, fucking _waiting_ for Octavia to get home like some 1950s housewife and Octavia felt absolutely awful about it.

And she was disgusted with herself.

If this was what the truth was going to do… well she _couldn’t_ tell Raven; not now. She loved her; she loved her so fucking much, and this relationship meant so _fucking_ much to her.

And she had almost ruined it all because of fucking soulmates and destiny and colors.

And nothing was worth that. Nothing was… nothing was worth the risk of losing Raven.

Who gave a shit about soulmates? Who gave a fuck if Octavia could see color? The universe could bite her in the ass, for all she cared.

Raven. Raven mattered, and none of the rest of it. Soulmate or not, she was in love with Raven Reyes.

And soulmates and colors and destiny had driven her away from her girlfriend, had made her girlfriend timid and unsure and shaking and quiet, and Octavia was furious about that.

And she wouldn’t do it again.

She couldn’t.

**

Living together wasn’t easy. But then again, moving and entering a new situation never was.

Living with Clarke wasn’t easy at the beginning, either.

And living with Raven was amazing; it was incredible and wonderful and extraordinary and all of those things and more. It took a while to settle into a good kind of rhythm, but settle they did.

She loved being able to fall asleep next to her girlfriend every night and she loved being able to wake up next to her every morning. She loved the sleepy kisses, she loved the cohabitation, she loved the way Raven poured coffee and she loved the way she kissed her goodbye before class and she loved coming home ( _home_ ) to Raven after a long day of working in the library and she loved that Raven always wore socks to bed because she had poor circulation in her feet and she loved that her clothes didn’t smell like paint all the time and she loved that she had half of a dresser and half of a closet and half of the shelf space in the bathroom and she loved that Raven kept a lamp on her bedside table just for Octavia.

And she really did love living with Raven.

But it wasn’t easy, because nothing was every really _easy_.

It was hard, because in order for Octavia to move in and take up half of Raven’s dresser and closet and half of her bathroom shelf space Raven had to move some of her things around. And that was always hard. Sometimes she had to call Octavia into the bathroom to help her figure out which toothbrush was hers. Sometimes she spent five minutes looking for her mascara only to remember that she had moved it to the opposite side of the room the night before.

And it was hard for Octavia to get used to putting everything back exactly where she had found it. All of the silverware had a place, all of the mugs had a place, all of the makeup and all of the books and the TV remote and the shoes and Raven’s clothes and her cane and sunglasses and it was hard. And Octavia forgot — frequently. And Raven never yelled, she was never angry with her, she just kissed her on the cheek and said, with a smile on her face, “Try to remember next time?”

And Octavia would agree and then of course she would inevitably forget next time.

And they would come back from getting groceries and Raven would ask where the paper towels were and Octavia _couldn’t remember_ and she would fight against angry tears because she was so frustrated and she couldn’t remember and she felt so _guilty_ because this was what she had to do; she had to be the one who remembered where the paper towels were, and she had to be the one to check the expiration date on all of the yogurt in the grocery store, and if she lost anything — if she misplaced her textbook or her phone charger or her keys or her sweater — she had to be the one to find it. She couldn’t call for help, say, “Hey, have you seen those black heels I really like?” because of course Raven _hadn’t_ seen them and could only offer vague suggestions (“ _Did you try the closet? Under the bed?_ ”).

And it was hard and she got frustrated sometimes.

But she was stubborn and prone to flashes of anger and Raven knew this.

When she felt Octavia getting swept up in the details, in the drama, in the frustration, she would slide into bed next to her and wrap Octavia in her arms (even though she didn’t like to sleep pressed up against someone else), or she would pull Octavia’s feet into her lap, or she would come up behind her and bury her face in Octavia’s hair and breathe deeply, quietly, until Octavia’s shoulders stopped shaking or until her heart rate went down or until she smiled and kissed Raven back.

And it wasn’t easy.

But it wasn’t impossible; it wasn’t bad. It was scary but it was exciting; it was new but it was exhilarating; it was hard but it was amazing.

It wasn’t easy. They both knew that it wouldn’t be. But after about two months it stopped being so scary. Octavia stopped forgetting to make sure her toothbrush always ended up on the right, Raven got used to the fact that her shirts were now in the second drawer instead of the top one, Octavia got used to keeping her shoes lined up neatly by the front door, got used to remembering where all of the groceries went. Raven got used to having another person in bed next to her every night, got used to touching Octavia more and more — casual touches, casual contact, brushing fingers against shoulders or pressing soft kisses to wet hair. She got used to Lincoln and Bellamy coming over more often, got used to more people in her apartment and in her home and in her space, got used to enjoying it, got used to liking people in her space and in her home and drinking her wine and laughing with her girlfriend and their friends.

They got used to it. It didn’t start out easy but it ended up that way, after a while.

And it was good. For the most part it was really, really good.

**

Octavia tapped her highlighter against her open textbook, worrying a pen between her teeth as she squinted down at the words in front of her.

She glanced at her phone, lying silent on the table (3:50 p.m., too soon for Raven’s to be done) before she turned back and tried to focus on her work. She was in the most stressful part of her midterm schedule (although truthfully — something no one had fucking warned her about before she got to college — every goddamn week was midterms week).

She sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds, rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

When she opened her eyes again she was no longer alone.

She blinked a few times and stared at the boy who had slid into the seat opposite. She frowned at him and cocked her head. “Hey?” She asked.

He shot her a grin and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Hey,” he said back.

She stared at him for a few more seconds. “Um… sorry, do I know you?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” He stuck a hand out. “I’m Atom? We were in the same Astro class last year… you know, the one we both took to fulfill the lab distribution requirement?”

Octavia smiled at him a little warily and took his hand. “Oh. Hey. Sorry, I don’t think I remember you.”

He shrugged. “That’s okay. I sat a few seats behind you… I asked you for a pen one day, because I wanted an excuse to talk to you and that was the best I could come up with.” His mouth quirked up.

Octavia eyed him for a few moments. Objectively pretty cute. Hair was decent. He looked older than he probably was. She glanced around the coffee shop. “So did you… did you need to borrow another pen?”

He threw his head back and laughed much louder than he needed to. Octavia fought a grimace.

Oh.

He was hitting on her.

He propped his elbows on the table and leaned a little closer to her. “That’s okay, I’m all good on writing utensils. I thought I could maybe buy you a coffee?”

She smiled as nicely as she could manage. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I’m actually waiting for someone.” She glanced at her phone again. 4:02 p.m.

He looked a little bummed, a little dejected, but otherwise not very put-out. “Ah. Should have figured you had a boyfriend.”

“Uh, no. A girlfriend, actually.”

Atom sat up a little straighter and blinked at her. “Oh.” He flushed. “ _Oh_. Sorry, I didn’t mean to… sorry. I didn’t know you were gay.”

Octavia shrugged. “I’m not gay. I just have a girlfriend.”

He nodded, his eyes a little wider than normal. “Oh yeah, cool, cool I totally get that.”

The bell on the top of the door chimed and Octavia glanced up, her eyes catching sight of Raven’s form in the doorway. She paused, her head tilted, her sunglasses down over her eyes, backpack slung over one shoulder and cane in her right hand. She was listening for something (for Octavia).

Octavia stood quickly. “Sorry, be right back.”

She approached Raven quickly and called out a soft, “Hey, Raven.”

Raven turned to her right and smiled. “Hey. You have a table?”

“Yeah, it’s over here. Do you want my arm?” Raven nodded and smiled, and Octavia slid her arm into the crook of Raven’s elbow and gently led her towards her window seat.

Atom stood from the table and pulled his chair out for Raven to sink into. She paused, curious expression on her face. “Someone else here?”

“Yeah, Raven this is Atom. He was in my Astro class last year.”

Raven smiled. “Hey Atom. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He looked to Octavia again. “Hey I’m sorry for… for all of this. I didn’t mean to be rude. Maybe I’ll see you around some time?”

Octavia nodded to him and he smiled back before turning to Raven. “Really nice to meet you, Raven. Have a nice day.” He slipped further into the shop and Octavia sank down into her seat. Raven followed just a moment later.

“What was that all about?”

“Oh you know, just one of my many handsome suitors trying to win my hand.”

Raven laughed, eyebrow quirked. “Oh, he was handsome, was he?”

Octavia shrugged. “Eh, not bad.”

“Damn, you coulda gotten a free coffee out of him. Have I taught you _nothing_ , Octavia?”

Octavia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling while she did it. “So you wanted me to flirt with a random guy just to get you a free drink?’

“I _absolutely_ wanted you to do that. We’re broke twenty-somethings, O. Sometimes you gotta sink a little low to get those perks.”

Octavia snorted. “You’re incorrigible.”

Raven smirked. “Don’t you have a degree to study for?”

**

When Raven pushed their apartment door open, keys in one hand and cane in the other, she started, more than a little surprised.

Octavia was inside, voice loud and angry as she addressed someone. Raven, immediately worried, closed the door behind her (but the two people in the kitchen didn’t hear her) and she took a few steps forward, mouth open and ready to call out to Octavia, when suddenly her voice rang out, exasperated but clear and unafraid: “Bellamy don’t be an ass.”

Raven paused in the entrance hall and quirked her head, trying to pick up the voices. She hadn’t known Bellamy was stopping by.

“Come on Octavia, you’re being…” A deep sigh.

His voice continued, tight and agitated, and Raven took a few more steps into the apartment, trying to hear better. (She felt a little guilty about eavesdropping on her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s brother, but they were clearly in a fight, and she was worried about them. Octavia hated fighting with Bellamy.)

(Also — selfishly — she was curious and a bit nosy and she never really could keep her nose out of other peoples’ business.)

“Look I know that you really love Raven, you’ve been with her for over a year, but it’s just… are you comfortable settling down with someone who isn’t… _you know_ , who can’t…”

“Who can’t _what,_ Bellamy?” There was a low and dangerous growl to Octavia’s tone that sent shivers down Raven’s spine. She always got like this when someone questioned their relationship (and people did it rather frequently) because who could possibly want a blind girl when there were a billion other fish in the sea? And Octavia was beautiful, she was so _so_ beautiful (Raven didn’t need to be able to see to know that much about her) and she could have practically anyone she wanted. People always wanted to know what Octavia was doing with someone like Raven; someone broken, blind, weak, _unlovable_.

That’s what it always came down to. Raven was unlovable. She lived in a world where finding your soulmate was considered the only way to be truly happy. Of course most people _didn’t_ find their soulmate but everyone had the _chance_ to find their soulmate. Every gaze met across a dark room gave you a jolt of anxiety, of anticipation. Every new person you laid eyes on could be _the one_.

Raven didn’t have that luxury.

“She can’t make you _happy_ , O. That’s all I meant. She isn’t _yours_.”

Raven felt a deep sinking in her heart. Of course. Truthfully she always knew, always had some sort of sneaking suspicion… Octavia was a hopeless romantic, and yeah, of course Raven believed that Octavia loved her, truly and deeply loved her, but... But. There was always a but. There was always a question. There was always a ‘what if,’ a ‘she deserves better,’ a ‘you don’t belong with her.’

And she doesn’t, not really. She doesn’t _belong_ with Octavia. They’ve known each other for almost 2 years and she’s just been kidding herself the whole time.

Because while _she_ may not believe in soulmates (and while she has no desire to find hers), surely Octavia can’t feel the same way.

And the fact that Bellamy and Octavia were talking about this now, on their own, when they were sure she wasn’t around… well it certainly didn’t make her feel _good_. She had no idea how they started on this conversation (who had brought up the notion of soulmates and who had attacked or threatened the other) but they were now in an almost full-blown _war_ in Raven and Octavia’s kitchen and Raven didn’t know what to do.

She wanted to help, but her feet wouldn’t move — stuck frozen to the floor for some reason her heart knew but her brain did not.

She wondered how often they discussed it (if they ever really discussed it) — the fact that Octavia was in a long-term relationship with someone who wasn’t her soulmate.

But Octavia _never_ talked to her about soulmates. She figured it hadn’t mattered much to Octavia.

Yet here she was, talking to Bellamy in her own kitchen about this very issue, as if they discussed this all the time around coffee or finger sandwiches (she wondered if they _did_ discuss it all the time).

“You’re lucky I don’t hit you.” Raven heard her girlfriend spit from the other room. “How _dare_ you say that? After everything she and I have… you _know_ that the soulmate thing doesn’t matter to me.”

“But it _should_ matter, O. What happens if you meet someone down the line and that’s it, it clicks, you realize _that’s_ the person you’re meant to be with?” Octavia scoffed. “Don’t blow me off like that. You’re going to break her heart.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“You’re going to break your _own_ heart.” When Octavia didn’t respond, Bellamy sighed, and Raven heard him say, “Look, I’m just trying to protect you.”

Octavia scoffed again. “You can’t seriously believe that—”

“I’m worried about you, O. I just want you to be safe. I don’t want anything bad to—”

“How is _attacking_ my relationship with my girlfriend keeping me ‘ _safe_ ,’ Bellamy? You’re trying to undermine a relationship that I’ve been in for over a year; that isn’t exactly ‘ _protecting’_ me. It feels like sabotage.”

Bellamy huffed. “I am _not_ sabotaging you or your relationship with Raven. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to either of you. If one of you meets your soulmate—”

“That’s never gonna happen Bellamy.”

“It’s statistically unlikely but that doesn’t mean—”

“No, Bell. It’s never gonna happen because she’s _it,_ for me. I _know_ she is.” It was quiet in the other room and Raven found herself holding her breath, though she couldn’t explain why. “There’s never going to be anyone else down the line because Raven is… she’s…” Octavia paused for a long, painful, excruciating moment, before she said softly (so softly Raven almost couldn’t distinguish the words), “She _is_ my soulmate.”

“She’s your _what_?”

“I’m your _what_?” She could feel their eyes on her as she burst into the kitchen, feel the tension in the room as the siblings stopped speaking and froze to look at her. She hadn’t even realized she had moved forwards, hadn’t even realized she had begun speaking, hadn’t even realized that Bellamy and Octavia were unaware of her presence. “Octavia what the _fuck_ are you talking about? I’m your what?”

Fast footsteps approached her (what did Octavia look like? Were her eyes wide with fear? Was she crying? Were her lips trembling as her words stuttered? Did she look guilty?) and Octavia’s voice said, from very close, “Raven, please don’t be mad—”

“Don’t be _mad_?” Raven’s mouth dropped open incredulously. “You’re telling me not to be _mad_?” She felt like she was falling through deep space. She was dizzy and disoriented and sweaty and a little nauseous. She gripped the doorframe next to her, suddenly feeling not very sturdy on her feet at all.

Octavia was suddenly right in front of her and Raven could practically _feel_ how concerned she was. “I’m going to put my hand on your arm, okay?”

“No!” Raven recoiled from the prospective touch and slammed backwards into the kitchen counter, her hip immediately smarting from the blow. “No don’t touch me. I can’t believe you… how… how long have you—? How long have you been _keeping this_ from me?”

“I knew the second I saw you. Everything was grey and then suddenly… God, Ray, it was just like they tell you about in all the books and on TV… It was… everything was… the first thing I saw was your jacket, and I was so confused because everything had only been grey before, all these different shades of white and grey and black, and then suddenly… suddenly there was red. I mean I didn’t _know_ it was red at the time, I found out later, but… I was so confused I think I almost broke Clarke’s hand squeezing it so hard.” There was a pregnant pause in the kitchen. “Please baby can I hold your hand?”

When Raven did not protest, Octavia slipped their hands together, threading fingers in a miraculously comforting gesture of familiarity.

“I didn’t… I didn’t realize you couldn’t see, not at first. You were walking over to us and yeah, I thought it was weird you were wearing sunglasses inside, but I figured you might be covering a hangover or something. But then you held out your hand and you didn’t look directly at us and I just _knew_. I thought maybe you were coming over to talk to me, to introduce yourself, to… I don’t know, sweep me off my feet or something.” Octavia leaned forward slowly, letting Raven feel her body get closer, her breath ghosting her girlfriend’s cheek, until she was able to place a slow, soft kiss there. She leaned her forehead against Raven’s and continued to her silent audience, “I asked you about soulmates, right then, do you… do you remember?”

Raven nodded, still in somewhat of a daze. “You asked me how I would know if I had found my soulmate.”

Octavia nodded against her head. “And you told me you didn’t believe. You said that the whole ‘soulmate’ thing was garbage. That if you were going to be with someone it was going to be because you loved them, because you were _in love_ with them, not because the universe or God told you it was what you were supposed to do.”

“I remember,” Raven whispered.

“So I told myself, ‘if this girl is meant to be with me, surely she’ll want to be in my life regardless of what fate tells us. Surely she’ll fall in love with me for _me_. After all, we’re soulmates.’ And I didn’t tell _anyone_ , not at first. I accidentally let it slip to Clarke once, about… it must have been almost two months ago, I guess… I let it slip that I could see colors, and she… well… I think she _guessed_ that it was you, but I never confirmed it.”

“Did Lexa know?” Raven could feel wetness against her cheeks, but she did not know if it was from _her_ tears (she was fairly certain she was crying) or Octavia’s.

“I don’t know, babe. I never told her but… I don’t know if Clarke did or if she didn’t. She may have thought… I don’t know what Clarke thought when I wouldn’t tell her if you were my soulmate. I don’t know if she… what she…” Octavia leaned forward and kissed Raven then, desperately, hopelessly, and it tore Raven apart in every way. She kissed Octavia back, of course she did, because how could she _not_ , but it left a bitter taste in her mouth and an uneasiness in her stomach. Octavia cupped the back of her neck and continued to place short, fraught kisses to every inch of Raven’s face that she could reach.

Raven pulled away suddenly, too sick and too upset to continue. “You lied to me.”

“Babe, please, I—”

“Would you have lied to me for the rest of our lives? If Bellamy hadn’t forced it out of you, if I hadn’t overheard… would you _ever_ have told me?”

Octavia didn’t answer, and Raven could not see the torment on her face, but she could feel the weight of everything going unsaid between the two of them. “I don’t know,” she finally whispered, “but you always said that you didn’t want to be with someone because of fate or… or God or anything. That… that you just wanted to love them and… and I _love_ you, Ray, I love you so much and you love me, and no one forced us to fall in love and no one said we had to—”

“You _lied_ to me, Octavia!” Raven found herself practically screaming, tearing away from the girl she loved and trying desperately to remember where the door to the kitchen was. But she was feeling dizzy and turned around and she couldn’t place herself and she _hated_ everything about this moment, about how lost and helpless she felt. “You lied to me. You didn’t fall in love with me because you wanted to get to know me. You saw… you saw the colors and you … _decided_ that I should be able to fall in love with you… but you didn’t _choose_ me, Octavia.” She found herself gasping on her words, choking against heaving sobs that threatened to ruin her. “You didn’t ch–choose me. You wanted me because the universe told you to want me. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

“Raven… Raven _please_.” Octavia didn’t know what she was begging for. Raven didn’t either.

“You need to leave.”

“Baby please don’t do this.”

“Not… I don’t know, Octavia. I don’t know if this is forever. I don’t know what I think; I don’t know what to think or what to do. But you need to leave this apartment because I can’t storm out of here but I can’t be _near_ you right now. So you need to go. Pack a bag and go to Clarke’s and… I don’t know, O. But I need space.”

She felt Octavia move closer to her, she could feel it in the air and she could smell her perfume getting stronger as she approached and she could feel her heat but Octavia — because she knew her so well and because she just… _was_ who she was — didn’t touch her. She never touched Raven without her permission; she never initiated anything if Raven didn’t know what she was about to do. Even now, as her world crumbled around her, she didn’t pull Raven into her arms and refuse to let her go (no matter what she may have wanted to do).

“I love you so much. Whatever you think… whatever you believe… you _have_ to know that I love you. What I feel for you is _real_. I don’t care what the fucking universe says…. You’re it for me, Reyes, and I’ve known it for a long time, with or without the colors.”

Raven wanted to smile, she really did. She wanted to pull Octavia into her arms and kiss her and tell her she loved her back and drown in the feelings and the emotions and… she wanted all of it.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“You’ve been hiding this from me for almost two years, Octavia. I know you love me; I _do_ but… but to keep _this_ from me? This huge thing when you knew that I couldn’t… that I had _no way_ of knowing…”

She heard Octavia’s choked sob from directly in front of her and she had to fight _hard_ to keep from reaching out and touching her, helping her, easing her broken heart… but Raven’s heart was broken too.

Raven could feel the tears streaking freely down her cheeks but she had to… she had to say this one more thing.

“You _knew_ I had no way of knowing. You always said that being blind didn’t matter, that you didn’t and _wouldn’t_ treat me any differently because of it, that you would care for me either way, even if I couldn’t see and… and you told me you’d _never_ keep something visual from me. And before today I thought you hadn’t, because you tell me when someone nods and I can’t see it and you never let Clarke and Lexa do that weird non-verbal thing that they do because you know that I… that I can’t…” Raven could feel herself crumbling and she needed this to _end_. “How could you not _tell me this_? The _one_ thing I could never know for certain and you… how can you look at me and tell me that you love me when you lied to me about this for _two years_ , Octavia?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I had—”

“We all wish a lot of things, Octavia.” It was quiet for several long moments. “I think it’s time for you to go now.”

And by the time Octavia had left, duffel bag over her shoulder and Bellamy’s firm arm around her waist, Raven had stopped feeling like she was about to die.

Instead her world was falling around her, and it was all she could manage to slump down against her kitchen counter and pray for sleep to come easily.

But it never did. Her head pounded and her tears flowed and she wept and she wept and by the time there was a frantic knocking at her door, she was too weak to stand.

**


	9. Chapter 9

When Octavia arrived at Clarke and Lexa’s door (formerly _her_ door), eyes red and holding a bag and looking frantic and desperate and horrified, the first thing Clarke thought was that something was horribly wrong.

“Oh my God, Octavia,” Clarke whispered, pulling her friend to her tightly and holding on for dear life. “My God what happened? Are you okay? Come inside.”

Octavia fell into her arms and sobs shook her body and Clarke couldn’t understand a single thing she was saying.

When she had gotten Octavia over to her couch — dark green like Lexa’s eyes, like the forest, like her favorite color — Clarke finally pulled away. “O you have to tell me what happened. Is everyone okay?” And when Octavia shook her head fiercely, Clark continued in a soft, quiet voice, “Is it Raven?”

“Ye-yeah, Clarke. Yeah it is.” Octavia’s voice was thick and heavy with tears and mucus and hurt and desperation. “I really fucked up, Princess,” she said quietly, voice cracking around every syllable. “I really fucked up and I don’t think I can fix it.”

“Did you… did something happen? I mean… is there…” A beat. A grimace. “Someone else?”

Octavia pulled away as if she had been burned. “There’s no one else,” she maintained fiercely, “there’s never been anyone else… there will never _be_ anyone else.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Octavia I just didn’t know what—”

“She’s my soulmate. Raven is… she’s the reason I can…”

Clarke was staring back at her intently, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, and Octavia found she had to look away, look down, avoid the judgment and the implications and the understanding dawning on her friend’s face. She wiped at her eyes furiously and angrily, hoping to dispel the tears from them. “You… she… how long have you _known_ Octavia?”

“Since I met her.”

“And you didn’t… why didn’t you _say_ anything? Why did you not tell her?”

“ _Fuck_ Clarke, I don’t know… How do you tell someone who can’t see that you’re her soulmate? What was she supposed to think? I was a goddamn fucking stranger and, what, she was just supposed to take my word for what it was? She was just supposed to believe me because… Why? Because I was roommates with you? Because you had found Lexa? Because I had a nice _voice_?”

Octavia stood from the couch, anger rolling through her body and replacing the crippling depression of moments before. “What was I supposed to _do_ , Clarke? She didn’t believe in soulmates, she didn’t believe in… in _any_ of it; she _told_ me. She told me she was going to fall in love with someone for who they were and not because of what the universe told her. And God, Clarke, looking at her… looking at her and _seeing_ for the first time and…” Octavia began to cry once more, “she was so… _bright_ and I had to get to know her, I just _had_ to. And I fell in love with her. How could I _not_ fall in love with her? I wanted… I wanted her and then she wanted me too and it was all just so perfect, you know? Because we fell in love because we _wanted_ to fall in love and not because we thought that we had to.”

“But O… why didn’t you tell her? After you were in love and after… after everything… you could have—”

“ _When_ , Clarke? When could I have told her? When could I have brought it up, who could I have told? In what scenario could I tell Raven Reyes, the girl who absolutely refuses to follow the guidelines of the universe and the whole ‘predetermined destiny’ thing… how could I tell her that I was her soulmate without her being furious with me? I didn’t tell her when we first met, and every time after that was too soon, or too disingenuous, or too late.” She breathed deeply and her shoulders sunk and she collapsed in on herself, like a dying star, like someone with too much pain and not enough strength to deal with it. “It was always too late. I-I didn’t do it right away and then it was _too late_.”

She slumped back on the couch, and Clarke had to fight to keep her expression neutral. “I think that’s a load of shit, Octavia.” Her friend whipped around, startled tear-filled eyes looking at her in disbelief. “Yeah, a load of complete _shit_. You could have told her. You could have told her at any point over the past 2 years and yeah it may have been messy but you would have told her and you could have worked through it but you were fucking scared. You were afraid of her finding out and losing trust in you and you were afraid of ruining this perfect thing you thought you had going with her and that’s no one’s fault but your own. It wasn’t _timing_. It was cowardice.”

An icy silence fell upon the two women, who had both stood up during Clarke’s tirade and who now faced each other from opposite sides of the room, warring silently and refusing to break their gaze.

The front door creaked as it opened.

“Clarke, I’m ho — Octavia? What are you doing here?” Lexa’s eyes fell to the bag unceremoniously dropped in the front hall. “What’s happened? Where’s Raven?”

At the mention of her girlfriend’s name, Octavia crumpled again, dry sobs overtaking her body.

Clarke softened at the anguish and rushed to her friend’s side. “There was… something happened, Lex, I think you should…” Clarke gestured out the door with her head and Lexa nodded, understanding immediately.

“Of course. Of course, I’ll go there right now. But you’re explaining this to me when I get back, okay?”

Clarke nodded. “Of course.”

Lexa was out the door without another word, and Clarke held a fragile and weeping Octavia in her arms and wondered how her life had gotten to this point.

**

Raven awoke with a start, head throbbing and throat dry and rubbed raw from crying. She felt a body next to her and ventured a quiet, “Octavia?” almost hopefully, almost wishfully.

When Lexa’s soft voice responded, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset. Tears pricked at her eyes again anyways.

“It’s me, Raven.”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“It was pretty late. You were pretty upset. I didn’t want to leave.”

“And… and Octavia?”

“She’s at my place, presumably still crying.” Raven gulped and rolled over so her head was towards the ceiling. That made it easier to breathe. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it that much.”

She felt Lexa shift closer to her on the bed, and Raven had to fight the itching urge to pull away. “Did you guys break up?” Lexa whispered, and the words made Raven’s stomach sink like a stone.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but… Clarke didn’t tell you?”

“I wasn’t there for that long. Not a lot of talking happened. She was worried about you and so was I so I came right here.”

Raven sighed. “She lied to me for… for a really long time, and I sort of accidentally found out when she was yelling at her brother and…” she took in a deep, shuddering breath, “and I don’t know, Lex, I just feel so… _betrayed_. Like how could she _do_ this to me?”

“Do you know why she lied?”

“I don’t… maybe? I mean she, well… I didn’t really… she started to explain but I’m just so _hurt_ because she knew that I would never be able to… she knew that I could never find out if she didn’t…”

“What did she — can I ask?”

Raven closed her eyes and thought for several long moments, weighing her words and trying to decide if… but Lexa would find out sooner or later. Clarke would surely tell her, if Raven herself didn’t. So she took a breath. “She didn’t tell me I was her soulmate.”

Lexa let out a short, quick breath, and Raven felt her roll over so that they were lying side-by-side in Raven and Octavia’s bed, heads to the sky. “That’s quite a thing to hide from someone.”

“I know.”

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want some coffee, or some food or something?”

Raven reached out and felt around until she grasped Lexa’s hand. “Can we just stay here, for a little while? Can we just pretend for a minute that my girlfriend didn’t break my heart tonight?”

Lexa squeezed her hand. “Yeah we can.”

They did not move for a very long time.

**

When Raven next awoke it was to the mechanical voice of her phone saying, ‘ _Clarke… Clarke… Clarke’_. She fumbled around on her nightstand, her fingers brushing over her sunglasses, the table lamp she kept plugged in on her side of the bed (there for decoration originally, when it was just her and Lexa, but now, more recently, for Octavia, who liked to read at night before falling asleep curled into Raven’s side), a book with no raised bumps (it must be one of Octavia’s… but whether it was for school or pleasure Raven couldn’t tell) but she could not find her phone.

“Do you want me to get that?” Lexa’s soft voice spoke from next to her.

“Could you? I’m not even sure where… it’s always on my bedside table but I guess last night…”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay in bed.” Lexa bent over and pressed a soft kiss to Raven’s forehead. Raven clenched her jaw and tried not to snap at her. Lexa was only trying to help, they hadn’t lived together for months, it was easy to break habits… but _God_ did she hate being touched without a warning.

“Hey Clarke it’s me.” Lexa was standing by the bedroom door, and Raven heard the floorboards creak, like she was shifting back and forth.

The doorknob turned but before Lexa could pull it open Raven said, “Don’t.” Lexa paused. “Please don’t walk out of the room. You don’t need to protect me from anything you’re saying, Lex, it’s fine. I’m a big girl; I can take it.”

Lexa didn’t move. Raven was grateful.

“Sorry babe, say that again?” Her voice said from by the door. And she was speaking quietly (Raven had no idea what time it was, but it was probably early and maybe Clarke wasn’t totally awake yet) but not so quietly that every word wasn’t distinguishable to Raven’s overly-attentive ears.

“No yeah she’s… well I wouldn’t say _fine_ but…” Raven’s stomach clenched and tears pricked at her eyes (she thought that last night had dried her up, that she had wept all of the tears she had in her body, leaving her empty like a popped water balloon, lacking any liquid. But clearly that wasn’t the case). Lexa continued, “She’s alive… and we’re going to get some food, now.” Raven opened her mouth to protest (she wasn’t hungry, her mouth tasted like sandpaper, she didn’t think she could eat _anything_ today) but Lexa said, addressing her, “Don’t argue. You have to eat, Raven,” and she slumped back down onto the pillows and didn’t say anything else.

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The pillow smelled like Octavia. She bit her lip, hard, and listened to Lexa again.

“How is Octavia?” Lexa asked quietly, and she was silent for a long, long time (presumably listening to Clarke’s answer, though Raven didn’t know for sure).

A quiet sigh, and then: “I don’t know when I’ll be home. Is that okay?”

Raven wanted to speak up, to protest — to tell Lexa that she was _fine_ and Lexa should go home to her girlfriend and just be happy and in love — but she was very tired and she felt very weak and she also felt that she didn’t really want to do that; not at all.

“I love you. I’ll talk to you soon.” A long beat where Lexa didn’t speak, and then: “Take care of her, too.”

And Raven wanted to cry. But she didn’t.

Lexa slipped back into the bed next to her. “Are you going to be okay?” She asked, and Raven shrugged, because she really didn’t know. “Is there anything I can do? Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Raven whispered, but she didn’t really believe that.

It was quiet for a moment. “Do you want to go out to eat or do you want me to make you something?”

Raven bit out a harsh laugh against her will. “You? Cook for me?”

Lexa huffed, but chuckled too. “Okay. So we’ll go out.” Raven turned her head away and didn’t respond. “…Or I could go get you something and bring it back?”

“Yeah could you… yeah. That sounds better.”

Lexa stood from the bed and Raven heard rustling (clothes being adjusted on her body, feet sliding into shoes, the jingle of keys picked up from the dresser). “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be back soon. Do you… any preference?”

Raven shook her head. In all likelihood she wouldn’t eat whatever Lexa brought back. She really didn’t think she could stomach any sort of food, right now.

But if it made Lexa feel better to go out and get her something, if it would stop her worrying, if it would make it so that Lexa would leave her alone in the quiet for a few moments, she would let her buy all the food she wanted.

She didn’t think she could eat anything for a few hours, but she let Lexa leave the apartment anyways, let her footsteps retreat and let the door open and shut without offering any sort of resistance.

She should probably shower. That might make her feel better.

But her bed was warm and it smelt like Octavia and if she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing she didn’t feel quite so sick, quite so heavy; her stomach didn’t clench quite so hard and her eyes didn’t sting quite so much.

So she stayed on her bed and she did not move until, about half an hour later, Lexa’s quiet voice called out from her kitchen. It was only then that Raven rolled herself out of bed and trudged through her apartment to join her friend.

She didn’t cry for the rest of the day, but she didn’t laugh, either. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

**

Lexa didn’t return home for the entire weekend — not until she absolutely had to, not until Raven practically shoved her out the door with a small, fake smile on her lips, assuring Lexa that she would be just fine, that she would eat and sleep and shower and work and Lexa need not worry about her.

But Lexa worried. How could she _not_?

But she also had to go home. She had no clothes at Raven’s apartment, no sort of toiletries. All of her books, all of her work was back at her own apartment. And she had class in the morning.

She had to leave, but she didn’t want to.

Over the course of her two days with Raven, Lexa had had a lot of time to think. Raven was withdrawn and quiet, and she never started up a conversation (only responded minimally when Lexa prodded her) so Lexa mostly just… did a lot of thinking.

And she wound up feeling furious and betrayed.

Suddenly, all of Clarke and Octavia’s interactions over the past few months began to make sense. All of the tense silences and all of the meaningful looks and the heated, quiet exchanges were growing in significance and Lexa was _seething_.

Because how could they keep something like this from her? How could Octavia… how could _Clarke_ …? Raven was her best friend. How could Octavia — one of her closest and dearest friends — and Clarke — her _girlfriend_ , for God’s sake — keep something like _this_ from her? How could they just… knowing what they know about Lexa and about Raven and about soulmates how could they _not_ tell her?

And she was angry. She was angry and she felt hurt and she was worried about Raven and she wanted to help her but she needed to go home but she didn’t want to see Clarke. Because she was furious, and she was worried that if she had to see Clarke… had to interact with her or talk to her… she was worried that if she had to see _Octavia_ …

But she needed to go home. And home had Clarke, and home had Octavia, and she knew she would probably see one or both of them.

It was Clarke, in the end, who she found curled up on a chair in the room where they kept their TV. Clarke, head tipped awkwardly to the side and eyes shut, a thin blanket wrapped around her body and feet tucked underneath her.

Lexa wondered what she had done this weekend, wondered if Clarke had been waiting for her and had simply passed out from exhaustion, wondered if Clarke had gotten any sleep, if she had been force-feeding Octavia and making sure she spoke and stood and bathed. She wondered if Clarke had yelled at Octavia, if she had told her off, if she had let Octavia cry on her shoulder, if she had slept next to her, warm arms wrapped tight around Octavia’s fitful form.

In the end, it was the picture of Clarke — looking so young and tired and innocent and beautiful — wrapped up in a blanket and sleeping in a horribly uncomfortable position in a horribly uncomfortable chair that pulled a smile onto Lexa’s lips.

She crossed the room softly and bent down so that she was kneeling next to Clarke’s body. She pressed a quiet kiss to Clarke’s forehead and leaned their heads together, eyes closed and nose brushing against Clarke’s silky hair.

She stirred, grumbling a little in confusion.

Lexa pulled back, and her eyes met Clarke’s, and they smiled at each other.

“Hey,” Clarke croaked, her voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven,” Lexa replied, her voice like puffed cotton. She leaned forwards and kissed Clarke (because she had to, because she wanted to, because Clarke’s lips were right there and she couldn’t quite help herself).

A quiet sound escaped from Clarke’s throat (almost a moan but not quite) and Lexa had to smile against her lips.

“I think we should talk about this,” she said when she broke their kiss, her tone and her expression suddenly serious in the aftermath of their quiet exchange. Clarke’s eyes flashed to hers. “About… everything that’s happened. I don’t quite… I have questions and I think you need to answer them.”

“Raven didn’t tell you?”

Lexa shook her head. “She told me enough, but not everything. And I want to know.” Lexa’s eyes were sharp and her jaw was tight, and Clarke eyed her, taking in her expression and the tension in her brow before she nodded.

She could see Lexa’s anger, could sense a potential fight brewing between the two of them, could almost hear the accusation in Lexa’s tone.

But she also knew that she owed Lexa some answers. She owed it to her. She had… she had kept a lot of things a secret and that wasn’t okay — that wasn’t right — and Lexa was not wrong to be mad at her.

But she also had a right to defend herself. She had a right to explain — and she knew that Lexa was waiting for it, would listen to her explanation and would weigh her words because Lexa was nothing if not fair and logical — and she could see a potential fight brewing and she did not want it to happen here.

“Let’s go outside. Octavia is asleep and I don’t want to wake her.”

Lexa nodded and stood, leading the way out into the hallway of their building.

Clarke followed, closing the door firmly behind her. She leaned her back against it and watched Lexa’s back, tight and straight with tension. She watched Lexa’s hands go behind her back and watched Lexa’s fingers twine together and clench tightly and she knew that Lexa was upset, so she merely leaned her head against the cool wood behind her and waited. Lexa would speak eventually.

When she did speak, she kept her back to Clarke, only angling her head enough for her words to reach Clarke’s ears. “How _could you_ , Clarke? How could you know about this and not tell me? How could you keep this from me?”

Clarke’s eyes flickered down and then up. “It wasn’t… this wasn’t mine to tell. Octavia made me promise not to tell and I was… I was trying to protect her.” Lexa turned to stare at her. “Lexa, you… you _know_ what happened the last time one of us tried to butt in on their business.”

Lexa’s nostrils flared. “Yes, it ended up getting them together,” she hissed.

Clarke huffed and rolled her eyes, letting heat and anger permeate her words, letting her restraint go, striking back at Lexa when she _knew_ she should be more calm, she should be more even-tempered. “Oh don’t pull that shit with me, Alexandria.” The name slipped unbidden from her lips but she shook herself and continued (because Lexa was wrong and she couldn’t believe that after everything they were _still_ fighting about that time over a year ago when Lexa had manipulated her friends into getting together), “That was _luck_. You meddled somewhere you shouldn’t have and just because it happened to work out for you doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do!”

Lexa arched an eyebrow. “It’s Alexandria now, is it?”

“Yes, because I’m fucking mad at you.”

“You’re mad at _me_? I’m mad at _you_!”

Clarke took a breath and clenched her fists and her eyes. “You can’t be mad at me for this. Look I… I _couldn’t_ tell you, Lexa. I couldn’t.”

“ _Why_ , because you made a promise to—?”

“No, Lex. No because…” She took a moment to steady herself. She unclenched her fists and relaxed her shoulders and met her girlfriend’s imploring gaze and spoke as truthfully as she could. “Look, when Octavia told me she could see color I… I _didn’t think_ it was Raven. It… it _couldn’t_ have been Raven, you know? Because she… she would have _told_ me. I thought she would have told me the _second_ she could see the colors, if she ever _could_ see them. And so when I found out… I just assumed… the only reason she wouldn’t have told me would have been because… because she was embarrassed. Or ashamed. Or… if…” she looked away, bit her lip, and mumbled, “if, God forbid… she was… seeing someone else.”

Lexa’s eyes flashed (though Clarke did not see them). “You thought Octavia was cheating?”

“No I… _no_. I didn’t. She isn’t… she isn’t the type.” Clarke shook her head. “No, Octavia has never cheated and she never _would_. But also…” She shrugged helplessly, “But also… I don’t know, Lex. I mean… I assumed that she didn’t tell me because she had met her soulmate and it was someone who _wasn’t_ Raven and she didn’t want to ruin her relationship and she thought that I…” Clarke trailed off.

Lexa took a step forwards. “What would you have done? If she had told you that it was someone who wasn’t Raven.”

Clarke laughed, looked down, and shook her head. “I probably would have told her they should break up.” At the look Lexa shot her, Clarke rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t give me that. You would have done the same.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

“A soulmate is like… it’s like a trump card, you know? Like… being with Costia wasn’t like… it wasn’t like this,” a hesitant pause, a fretful look, “was it?”

“No Clarke. It wasn’t anything like this.”

“I would have thought that Octavia deserved that. That she deserved… deserved this.”

“She had this. She had it all along.”

“I know.” Clarke shook her head. “Fuck we were stupid. _I_ was stupid. I should have known… I should have guessed…”

“ _None_ of us knew. It isn’t… it isn’t your fault, Clarke.”

Clarke felt very much like it was her fault, though. She really… a lot of terrible shit had happened in the past 72 hours and she really felt like she could have stopped it. Like maybe… maybe if she had paid more attention, if she had talked to Octavia more, if she had actually spent enough time with her best friend the first few months after she and Lexa got together.

And God, what kind of… what kind of friend was she that she didn’t _notice_? It had been… Octavia met Raven _two years ago_. How did she not _notice_?

When she met Lexa, she had gotten so swept up in the novelty, in the excitement, in the romance of finding her soulmate and learning about her and being with her and she… she had drifted away from Octavia. Not… not wholly away, but… but she couldn’t deny that her priorities had changed. They changed as soon as her eyes met Lexa’s, as soon as she was jolted awake, as soon as she blinked and saw green eyes and a shocked expression, as soon as she smiled and Lexa smiled back. She had been done for.

And she hadn’t fought for her friendship with Octavia. She hadn’t… they didn’t talk as much. They didn’t spend as much time together, and Clarke knew this.

But… but _fuck_ , she could have told her. Octavia could have _told_ her, could have asked her, could have… What did she do, that first night that she met Raven and saw color? What had she done, if she didn’t talk to her best friend about it? She clearly didn’t call Bellamy, and Clarke assumed she hadn’t reached out to some lesser-known friend (if she didn’t tell Clarke she certainly didn’t tell Monroe or Harper or Wells).

Clarke had been there, she remembered the party; she remembered meeting Raven and smiling at her and she remembered getting a little too drunk and she remembered Octavia locking herself in the bathroom and opening the door with wide eyes and shaking hands and…

Fuck. _Fuck_ she was so stupid.

Lexa was staring at her, and it was only then that Clarke realized she had fallen into herself and gone silent. “Are you alright, Clarke?’

She blinked a few times and nodded. Lexa took a few steps closer, almost in Clarke’s personal space but not quite.

Clarke bit her lip and looked at Lexa through hooded eyes. “Are you still mad at me?” She asked quietly.

Lexa shook her head. “I am not.”

Clarke smiled, small and reserved and soft. “I’m not mad at you either.”

**

Octavia began to think of her life in three stages.

_1.) Before Raven_ :

It was hard to really remember a time before Raven. They had only known each other two years but in those two years, Octavia’s entire world had changed, had shifted, had been thrown into orbit and into color and before… before was blurry. Before Raven was dark, and gray, and it wasn’t… it wasn’t _sad_ , it wasn’t empty. She was happy, Before Raven. She had Clarke and her brother and her friends and she had school and she had her desire to be a teacher and she had purpose. She had friends and lovers, boyfriends and girlfriends and flings (they never lasted long, they were never serious). She had sex and she had fun and she smoked a little too much weed and she maybe drank a little too much but she still had fun, she was still… she still had a life.

It wasn’t like her life hadn’t been _important_ before she met Raven. It wasn’t like… it wasn’t like, “I didn’t know who I was before I met you,” or, “Before I met you my life was empty” because it _wasn’t_ ; that wasn’t true. Life Before Raven was… it wasn’t bad. It was… it was _different_ but it wasn’t bad.

It just wasn’t… it wasn’t as colorful. It didn’t… it was hard to explain. Life Before Raven wasn’t _bad_ , because in her life before Raven she didn’t know that life With Raven was _possible_. She couldn’t miss a life that she didn’t know was possible. So it wasn’t bad; it didn’t hurt; she didn’t actually feel like she was missing out on anything (in fact she had quite a good time in her day-to-day life Before Raven).

And it wasn’t like she pretended that it never existed, either. Her entire existence wasn’t wiped clean by the mere fact that she met her soulmate. It wasn’t like she never thought about her life Before Raven.

But at the same time it just wasn’t the same. And when she looked back on it now… she wondered. She wondered about a time when she couldn’t see color, she wondered about a time when she had been so… so fucking _naïve_ , so innocent. She wondered about a time when she had thought… had honestly thought that if she never met her soulmate she would have been totally fine.

She _would_ have been, she knew this. She would have been totally fine if she had never met her soulmate, because… because she never would have known that it was possible to have a soulmate. She would have never known… she would have never known Raven. She would have never known what it was like to be with Raven, to be held by her, to touch her and talk to her and kiss her and love her and know her.

She would have been fine never meeting Raven.

But the fact of the matter was that she _had_ met Raven. And because of that, everything had changed.

_2.) With Raven_ :

Being with Raven was everything she never knew she wanted. It was so strange to try and quantify her time, to… to try and put into words exactly what With Raven entailed.

It was quiet. It was soft and it was warm and it was understanding and it was breathing and living and loving and it was home.

Being with Raven was home.

And it felt so… so insignificant, any time she tried to actually sit down and think and formulate her thoughts into words. Everything she came up with was so insignificant. Because Raven was… Raven was bigger than her. And she hadn’t really noticed before; hadn’t really known. But Raven was… Raven was a giant; a burning star; a warrior, and a much stronger woman than Octavia could ever hope to be.

And being with Raven made her better. It made her happier, it made her kinder, it made her more patient and less stubborn, more motivated and less of a fuckup asshole.

It wasn’t like… it wasn’t like her life was empty before Raven, or she didn’t know who she was before Raven. But being with Raven made her realize exactly who she _could_ be, who she had the potential to be.

Because Raven was better than her, in probably every single way. And not in the self-deprecating, jealous kind of “ _Oh man you’re so much better than me it’s unfair_ ” way or the “ _You’re too good for me I don’t deserve you_ ” way. Because if… well, you should _want_ to be with someone who’s better than you. You should want to… dating someone who you deem yourself “worthy” of dating is… well that won’t ever end well. You’re supposed to want to make your partner proud of you. Octavia wanted to make Raven proud of her.

And she thought that she did, at least for a while. She hoped that — whatever the future held — at least she was someone Raven could be proud of. At least for a moment.

_3.) After Raven_ :

And it was this last stage in which she currently found herself. After Raven. Because Raven had made it explicitly clear that she wanted time away, time to herself, time _without_ Octavia.

Which… okay, understandable. Octavia had done something pretty fucked up and she would be the first to admit that. And she understood wanting time away, time to think, time to question and ponder. She understood it.

But she didn’t _want_ it; she didn’t. She didn’t want time away. She didn’t want an After Raven. She wanted to talk, she wanted to apologize, she wanted to kiss and try to make better and she wanted to stop wallowing and crying and she wanted to stop feeling like her heart was tearing itself in half just because it was trying to put itself back together.

Because After Raven was beginning to feel a whole lot like After Everything; a whole lot like Nothing.

And she really didn’t like that.

Clarke and Lexa’s apartment (previously: Clarke and Lexa and Octavia’s apartment; even more previously: Clarke and Octavia’s apartment) still had two bedrooms. And Clarke, though she had gone a long way towards turning Octavia’s old room into an art studio, had not yet managed to remove the bed. (“ _For guests, O,”_ Clarke had said, laughing when Octavia had asked her what the point of a second bed was in their love-nest. She always suspiciously wondered if Clarke kept it around to keep Lexa in line — a warning, of some sort: if you fuck up you’re sleeping in the studio. She had no proof but she thought it was probably likely.)

She was sleeping a lot. It had been three days since she had last been in her own apartment, three days since she had taken a shower or eaten a full meal (she had clothes and a toothbrush and a hairbrush but she hadn’t gotten up to change or brush her teeth or do her hair at all, except for the four times Clarke had dragged her out of the bed in order to force something bland-tasting down her throat).

She knew… she _knew_ that Raven said that this wasn’t a breakup; not really. But it sure fucking felt like a breakup.

The one time she distinctly remembered waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, Lexa and Clarke’s low voices drifted in under her door. She glanced at her phone. It was only 11:30 (had she been asleep all day?).

“They’re miserable, Clarke,” Lexa said lowly, and Octavia could picture her, could see her curled up on the couch, leaning into Clarke’s side, holding a glass of wine in her hand while Clarke’s fingers ran through her hair. They were probably sitting facing the TV (but she couldn’t hear anything so she didn’t think it was on), probably had only a lamp on, washing them in warmth.

Thinking about Clarke and Lexa was nice because it meant she wasn’t thinking about Raven.

She sat perfectly still and strained to hear their conversation.

“They’re both so miserable. Raven she… she’s trying. At least she’s eating. But she’s barely talking. She hasn’t spoken once about what happened. She just… she sits there, in silence, thinking. For… for _hours_ , Clarke. I don’t… I don’t understand it.”

They were quiet for a very long time and Octavia wondered what they were doing, whether or not they were doing that horrible non-verbal communication thing that drove her absolutely nuts because of how isolating it was. It was also super fucking rude to do it around Raven, because she—

Octavia shook herself. _Don’t think about Raven_.

“Christmas is next week,” Clarke whispered and Octavia’s heart clenched.

“I know.”

“Do you think they… fuck Lexa what are we going to do?” Silence answered her. Whatever look Lexa gave her made Clarke sigh and say, “I know but are we… we should probably split up, right?”

“Yes that… that makes sense. I can do Christmas with Raven and Anya and my aunt and uncle and you can do it with Bellamy and Octavia and Lincoln.”

“We don’t know that Raven wasn’t planning on going home,” Clarke said quietly, “has she said what… Octavia never told me.”

“She wasn’t going home,” Lexa said, tersely. “She doesn’t like Christmas at home.”

There was a story there, one Lexa and Octavia were privy to but one Clarke clearly did not understand. Thankfully, mercifully, Clarke did not ask Lexa to explain. Octavia didn’t think she could sit there and listen to Lexa explain.

“This whole situation is garbage, isn’t it?” Clarke asked quietly.

Lexa didn’t respond but Octavia knew what her eyes said, knew what her body language was communicating. _Yes it’s fucking garbage,_ her green eyes would scream at Clarke in the darkness. _Yes I hate this and yes it’s fucked up and yes I want it to end,_ she would say.

Or maybe she wouldn’t say that at all. Maybe that was just Octavia’s brain projecting its own desires onto a conversation she was not a part of.

“I’m worried about them,” Lexa’s soft voice responded after a long silence.

“Me too Lex. Me too.” Another long pause where Octavia didn’t breathe or move. “We just have to believe that they’ll be able to fix it.”

“They will.” Lexa said certainly. “They must.”

Octavia wanted to believe so too. She wished it were that easy.

**

She knew who was at the door as soon as she heard the fast and rhythmic pounding.

Clarke sighed and stood from the couch, casting a glance behind her at the door to Octavia’s room; still shut; still dark, even though it was 3 in the afternoon.

She pulled the door open and smiled sadly at Bellamy, who stood there, hair messy and closed fist raised, and looking very much like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Hey Bell.”

“Is Octavia here? I tried… I tried calling but she wouldn’t pick up. And I didn’t want to go to her place if she and Raven…”

Clarke stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her. “She’s here,” she said quietly.

“Can I see her?”

Clarke bit her lip and shook her head. “Probably not a great idea.”

“Come on Clarke, I have to… I have to do _something_. She can’t just ignore me forever.”

“She’s angry, Bell. She’s angry and heartbroken and sad and she won’t eat and she’s crying all the time.” Bellamy looked distraught at this, so Clarke reached out and brushed her hand against his arm. “I know how sorry you are, and… and Octavia knows too, in her own way.”

He shook his head. “Please just let me see her. She… I’m her brother. It’s my job to protect her, to… to keep her safe and fix it when things—”

Clarke cut him off. “You can’t save her from everything.”

“But she… she needs me.”

Clarke shook her head, eyes downcast. “I don’t think she does, Bellamy. Not right now.”

Bellamy stared at her for several long moments before he slumped against the opposite wall. “Well that… that’s a really horrible feeling.”

And Clarke just nodded. Because she knew; she knew what it was like to be needed one day and then suddenly not. She knew what it was like to be driven to fix things, to fix everything, to save everyone. She and Bellamy were cut from the same cloth. And she had done it before, too; in her attempts to solve a problem she had no business solving, she had ended up making everything worse for everyone involved (it had almost shattered her friendship with Wells before Octavia had talked her down and she had apologized).

But they both had to realize sooner or later that no matter what their best intentions may be, they could only do so much. They could only save so many people. They could only fix so many things.

And this… this was more than either of them could handle.

Bellamy couldn’t fix this. No matter how much he may want to, no matter how much Clarke may want to (or may want him to), he couldn’t fix it. Because it wasn’t his problem to fix, not anymore. Now it was Octavia’s.

She only hoped that Octavia could handle it.

**

Raven wasn’t expecting any visitors. Lexa had told her that she would be there later that night (but it was only 4:00 now and so much too early if Lexa was coming from school) and she hardly figured Clarke would stop by. In this rift, this division of friends, Octavia seemed to have won Clarke and Raven seemed to have won Lexa. She knew that wasn’t true, not exactly, and it wasn’t like… they weren’t broken up (at least _she_ didn’t believe they were broken up. Just… breaking, for the moment) and so it wasn’t like Clarke or Lexa had explicitly “chosen sides” or anything similar.

Except Raven was pretty confident in the fact that she hadn’t had a direct conversation with Clarke since she had kicked Octavia out almost a week ago. And, from what Lexa said, her interactions with Octavia had been brief and strained.

Neither Clarke nor Lexa wanted to choose sides, because both could understand the point of view of either, and neither was willing to betray their friendship to such an extent.

And Raven could accept that. She could respect it, too.

But she did miss Clarke. As strange as it sometimes might have felt… she really missed Clarke. Clarke was one of her best friends. At first, for the first eight months or so that Clarke and Lexa were seeing each other (back before she and Octavia were Raven And Octavia, before they were anything more than nothing, before they had exchanged heavy words and heated kisses and whispered emotions) Raven was simply around Clarke because Clarke was around Lexa. And sure… they didn’t exactly hang out one-on-one very often (rarely, if at all), but Clarke was… she was more than just Lexa’s girlfriend; Lexa’s soulmate.

She was Clarke in her own right, a friend to Raven in her own right, and Raven loved her, in her own right.

She missed her; she had missed her in the past week.

And though she knew that it likely wasn’t Clarke knocking at her door at 4 in the afternoon, she could hope (just for a moment).

(A small part of her worried that it was Octavia. A slightly larger part of her _hoped_ that it was Octavia. But Octavia was respectful; Octavia was kind; Octavia was nothing if not considerate of Raven’s feelings. She wouldn’t just show up without any kind of warning. She wasn’t that type of person.)

(A small and traitorous part of Raven noted, _You also thought she wasn’t the type of person to lie,_ but such thoughts upset her and made her angry, and so she shook them off.)

Lincoln’s warm voice called out to her through the door, and Raven — who had paused, trepidation seeping through her blood as to the mystery she could not see — hastened in her footsteps to get there and welcome him in.

“Hi, Lincoln. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I should have called. But I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to stop by, to… to see how you were doing.”

Raven smiled, small and strained, and stood aside to let him in. He thanked her quietly as he brushed past.

“Were you at the gym?” She asked, politely.

“Why, do I smell?”

Raven bit her lip. “No, just… the gym is close to here. I thought that might have been why you were in the neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I was there.” A pause. “Do you mind if I get a glass of water? I’m a little parched.”

“Not at all. Help yourself. You know where everything is.”

As he made his way into the kitchen she made her way to the couch. She knew why he was here (or at least could guess). She knew he was worried, knew he wanted to check on her, knew that (or perhaps hoped that) he was some agent for Octavia; a way to hear about her and see how she was doing while still respecting Raven’s boundaries.

Lincoln’s soft footsteps approached.

Raven cleared her throat. “Was… were you by yourself?”

The couch dipped next to her as Lincoln sank his body into the cushions. “Yeah. I tried to get Octavia to come but she hasn’t really been in the mood recently.”

Well… that was putting it lightly.

Raven just nodded and played with her hands in her lap. Despite the fact that she had known Lincoln for a surprisingly long time, he had never really… he was always more Lexa’s friend, and then he was more Octavia’s friend, and… and she liked him a great deal, and she liked having him around and having him over for dinner and she thought that he was absolutely charming and funny and lovely, but she also didn’t really know Lincoln — not well. She would consider them friends but not quite, though certainly more than acquaintances (they knew where each other lived and they had exchanged numbers years ago, but still).

“How are you, Raven?” He asked softly.

She did not tilt her head up. “I’m fine, you know. Been better, but also been worse.” She couldn’t really remember a time when she had been worse (she was sure she had been, it was just… hard to remember a more painful moment when you were sitting inside a moment of pain).

“Lexa told me what happened,” he said (rightly choosing not to believe what she had said), “and she also…” he sighed and seemed to change tactics. “I knew that you were her soulmate.”

Raven’s hands clenched into fists, but that was the only indication that she had heard and reacted to his words.

Lincoln pressed on. “I’ve known for a really long time. I thought you… you deserved to know that about me. To know that I kept this secret from you, too.”

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Did you tell her not to tell me?”

“No. Every time I saw her I tried to get her to tell.”

“Then why didn’t she?”

Lincoln sighed. “I don’t know, not… not for sure. But to her it always made the most sense not to tell you. She thought she would be saving you both a lot of pain by not mentioning it.”

Raven laughed bitterly. “Well… I guess she was right and wrong about that, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah I guess so.” A long break. Raven thought maybe she should say something, maybe she should tell Lincoln that she didn’t blame him for keeping the secret (and she didn’t really. She didn’t blame Clarke for keeping it a secret either. At the end of the day they were both just trying to protect Octavia. Raven could respect that). But she didn’t say that. She respected his decision and understood it, but she also felt fury leap up inside of her and lap at the pit of her stomach. She shoved it down.

“Do you…” Lincoln stared, but abruptly drifted off. Raven didn’t have anything to say so she didn’t say anything. After a moment, Lincoln began again. “Do you wish that you hadn’t found out?”

Raven had to sit and think for several long moments. Eventually, she said, “I don’t know,” because it was the truth.

She didn’t know. She really, really didn’t. Because on one hand… on one hand, yes, she wished that she had never found out. She wished that Octavia had been better at keeping this a secret, that Octavia had held onto it tightly and never informed anyone, that she hadn’t come home when she did and hadn’t heard the conversation that she did. Because this… living like this, and knowing that Octavia had… knowing everything that she knew, Raven was mad. She was mad and angry and sad and heartbroken and betrayed and in love. She was still so in love.

And _fuck_ if she didn’t wish that she could just go back to where she was a week ago, go back to the way things were a week ago, go back to… go back to a time when she hadn’t had to think about soulmates and implications and about fate and about free will and about love. Go back to a time when it was just her and Octavia curled up in a warm bed together and not thinking about anything more serious than where they were going to buy their next meal.

So yes, on one hand, she really wished that she hadn’t found out.

But on the other hand… on the other hand she _had_ to find out. She couldn’t have… this was something that needed to be said a lot sooner than it had ended up being said. This was something that Raven had needed desperately (though she did not know it). She had to know. And sooner or later, the guilt of… the guilt of this secret would have killed Octavia. She knew that.

And was she mad at Octavia for keeping this a secret for two years? You bet your fucking ass she was.

But did she understand it? Yes, she did. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t.

So maybe it would have been easier, if she had never found out. Maybe it would have made her life easier and less stressful and less full of the weight of betrayal and color and destiny. Maybe it would have made her life easier.

But it wouldn’t have been right. And it wouldn’t have been sustainable.

And as much as it hurt to think that, she knew that it was true.

So she had no answer for Lincoln. But Lincoln (bless his heart) seemed to understand that. So they just sat on that couch together for a while and did not speak much further.

**

**_12 Missed Calls (Bell Money)_ **

Octavia swiped her phone to get rid of the notification. He had also left her 7 voicemails, which she deleted without listening to.

She threw her phone back down to the end of the bed. She had it on, the volume turned up as loud as it could go, and every notification (every phone call and loud _ping_ in the dark room) set her heart racing, but every time she wound up disappointed.

Because the only person trying to talk to her was Bellamy.

And she really didn’t want to talk to him right now.

Her phone rang again, and she sat up angrily and grabbed for it, ready to hang up on her brother yet again, but the smiling picture that greeted her gave her pause.

Lincoln’s image grinned up at her from her bright screen. His mouth was split wide, white teeth brilliant as he winked at the camera. Octavia had leapt onto his back, her arm wrapped around his neck as she pretended to choke him.

Lexa had taken the picture, laughing at the pair of them as Clarke had rolled her eyes and Raven had shouted from the couch, “ _You better not break any of my shit, Octavia!_ ” during their scuffle.

It had only been taken a few weeks ago.

Fuck, a lot had changed since then.

She answered. “Lincoln?” Her voice was heavy with disuse.

_“Hey. I brought you some Chinese and some beer. I thought you could use some company.”_ Octavia was quiet for a moment, thinking it over to herself. Was she really in the mood for another person right now? She could always pretend she wasn’t home, pretend she had gone to the movies or the gym or the store…

But she was a shit liar, and Lincoln knew her better than that.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said instead, stalling for time as she pushed her fingers through her hair, attempting to tame it. She looked down at her shirt and debated changing, but then thought better of it, because it wasn’t like she was trying to impress Lincoln or anything.

And she was fucking sad. She would wear an old t-shirt and no bra if she wanted to, because she was fucking sad and putting on a bra was a lot more work than she was really prepared to deal with. She had had to do it four days this week already, to go to her classes, and that was four times too many, in her opinion.

_“It was no trouble,”_ Lincoln said, voice tinny through the speaker. _“Besides, Lexa told me you’d be home alone tonight.”_

That was certainly true. Christmas was in fewer than four days, and Lexa and Clarke had been out shopping for basically the entire day (who knew what they were shopping for; Octavia was already guilty enough about them spending the holiday apart — as much as she tried and begged and pleaded, they refused to abandon either her or Raven — so she didn’t like to dwell on the fact that they were probably out trying to make Christmas feel like _Christmas_ as much as they could).

“I’ll be right at the door,” she said, and he thanked her and hung up.

When she pulled the door open, there he was — all kind, sympathetic face and heavy plastic bags. He grinned at her. “Plates or just silverware?” He asked.

“Ugh, I don’t want to do dishes.”

He laughed and nodded and allowed her to lead her through the apartment — which she knew so well but which was also foreign to her.

It was the same, mostly. Clarke had kept most of their furnishings the same (she hadn’t painted or hung new art or replaced the couch or the rug or the tables or anything), but at the same time… at the same time this apartment was no longer hers. There were no longer her mugs in the cupboard, no longer her coats in the closet or her shoes in the front hall. Her keys were not in the little bowl by the door, her feet did not track in mud after a rainy day. Her clothes were not thrown over couches, her books were not left spread out and messy on the coffee table. Octavia didn’t live here anymore, and she could tell.

All the little touches that were _her_ were gone, replaced by little touches that were _Lexa_.

Lexa’s boots by the door, Lexa’s umbrella leaned up underneath a window, Lexa’s mugs in the cupboard, Lexa’s food in the fridge, Lexa’s books on the table and Lexa’s coats in the closet. Lexa had little scraps of her writing pinned to the fridge (a half-written grocery list, a note to _Call Anya,_ something she had clearly written to Clarke one morning — _I had to go to class but I love you and you sleep like the dead and also you bit my hand when I tried to wake you up and the only Band-Aids you had were ‘My Little Pony’ themed so it’s your fault that I am going to be teased in class,_ followed by a little heart and the letter “L” and a My Little Pony Band-Aid stuck to the post it for illustration). Lexa was everywhere.

The apartment had never felt homelier. Even if Octavia knew instinctively that she didn’t belong here, in this place, permanently, it was still nice to see, sometimes.

And it had never felt more like home.

Domesticity fit Clarke and Lexa.

She passed Lincoln a fork and he nodded his thanks, pushing a Styrofoam container towards her as he opened his own and began to eat.

They sat around the table in companionable silence for a while before Lincoln cleared his throat and offered, “So I saw Raven.”

Octavia’s stomach clenched and her throat constricted and she had to blink a few times. She wasn’t prepared for him to say that. She took another bite of her food, trying to remain nonchalant (and failing miserably). “How… how is she, then?”

“Sad. Quiet. She tried to smile but her heart wasn’t in it.” He looked at her, long and steady. “She misses you,” he said quietly.

Octavia looked down at her hands, fighting the sudden flash of desire to push away her food. She really wasn’t that hungry, anymore. “I miss her too.”

“Have you tried calling her? Going to see her?”

Octavia shook her head. “She doesn’t want that, not… not right now. I’m trying to… she said she wanted space and time to think, so I’m giving her space.”

“And time to think.”

She nodded. “Yeah. And that.”

“Aren’t you worried about what all that thinking might lead to? Aren’t you worried she might… might decide to… end things?”

Octavia didn’t look up from her hands, but her fingers clenched and flexed against each other and Lincoln saw one lone drop of water fall from the bridge of her nose and splash against her jean-clad legs. “Yeah, I’m worried about it,” she answered quietly, voice muffled slightly by her hair.

“You should fight for her,” Lincoln prodded and he slid a little closer to her, bringing his chair around so that they sat practically flush side-to-side. “You should… should show her that you aren’t ready to give up on the two of you.”

Octavia brought her head up and her cool eyes met Lincoln’s. She just shook her head sadly. “I can’t do that.”

“Octavia, you have to—”

“If she decides that she can’t forgive me after this… if she decides that this is the end of us, that I… that I betrayed her and lied to her and that it w–was unforgivable… Then I’m going to let her, Lincoln. I have t–to respect what she wants. I already spent two years _not_ respecting what she wants and I…” She shook her head and dropped her eyes again. “I did something unforgiveable, and I won’t be mad at her if she decides that she can’t forgive me.”

Lincoln looked harrowed and heartbroken and panicked, but Octavia wasn’t looking at his face. “But…” he stuttered, utterly lost for a moment, “but you have to… she _has_ to forgive you! You’re soulmates!”

Octavia shrugged. “It’s not so simple as that.”

“But… _why_? Why can’t it be so simple?”

“Lincoln if… if there are two people in a relationship, and one person decides that they can’t be in that relationship any longer… then the other person has to bend to that, has to… has to allow it to happen.” She blinked and tried to breathe evenly (but she failed). “If Raven says that she can’t be with me any more I have to… I have to let her go.”

Lincoln’s brow furrowed and his hands clenched. “If this is about that stupid saying, that, ‘If you love someone let them go’ nonsense, I’m going to—”

“It _isn’t_ about that. It’s just… it’s just respect. It’s like sex. If there are two people who are about to have sex, and one person backs out at the last minute, changes their mind and says, ‘ _Hey no, I don’t want to do this. I’m not ready, it isn’t right, I can’t, not with you…_ ’ whatever, if they say something like that… well, if the other person pressures them, tries to push them, tries to fight for it and say, ‘ _No baby but I love you, you can trust me, I won’t hurt you…_ ’ that’s just garbage. And it’s so, _so_ wrong. And if I… if I wouldn’t pressure Raven into sex I won’t pressure her into staying with me. Not if… not if she doesn’t want to.”

And for all of Octavia’s sadness and for all of her slumped defeat, Lincoln could tell that she meant it. He could see it in the fire of her eyes, in the set of her jaw, and he knew that she wasn’t lying. He knew that if Raven truly decided to end their relationship, Octavia would let her. Because that was just who she was.

Octavia had hurt Raven enough. And she… she was giving; always so giving; always willing to sacrifice. And yes, she was angry and small and stubborn and she fought hard and dirty and she never gave up if she wanted something bad enough but she… she also understood. She understood Raven like maybe no one else did. She knew how hard Raven had struggled in her life — to adapt, to be loved, to love in return — and she knew how hard Raven had struggled in order for people to just accept what she said. To just… to just _believe_ her and _trust_ her, to pull back when she asked them not to touch her because she could walk herself to the car just fine, because she could take her own notes in class and she could pay for her own food and she could walk and read and watch TV and yeah, she did all of it a little differently from most other people but that didn’t mean she _couldn’t do it_. And she liked fluffy dogs and she liked making breakfast and she liked listening to baseball games on the radio and she liked sleeping in late and she secretly loved baths. And Octavia knew all of this.

And she also knew how important agency was to Raven, to a woman who had felt stifled and condescended to for most of her life. She knew that Raven was a person who was used to people second-guessing her (her relationships, her choices, her decisions, her capabilities) and she _knew_ how much it upset her, despite the fact that she would never say anything about it.

Agency was important to Raven. And Octavia would accept it and would believe it and would respect it, no matter the personal cost to herself. If Raven said, “ _No, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be with you anymore_ ” it would destroy Octavia, and everything that she was.

But she would nod and say “ _Okay_ ” and she would tell Raven she loved her and not expect to hear anything back because it wasn’t… she wouldn’t be _letting her go_ in any sense of the word. But she would respect what Raven said and what Raven wanted.

Because if there were two people in a relationship and one person decided they didn’t want to be in that relationship any longer, then Octavia couldn’t just _refuse_.

She didn’t want to break up. She never wanted to. And if Raven gave her the option or the opportunity or the ability she would crawl back on bended knee and beg forgiveness, and she would continue to beg forgiveness and to atone for what she had done for as long as Raven would have her. She would do everything in her power to keep Raven in her life and to continue to love her and be loved by her and to care for her and protect her and be protected by her.

But if Raven told her it just wasn’t possible?

Octavia would hold her breath and she would accept and she would hope and pray for the day when Raven would be able to speak to her again, to talk to her and smile at her and maybe (possibly) love her and she would hope; and she would try to make it clear that she was not the same person she was when she was twenty years old and scared of destiny and the future and of colors. She wasn’t the same person.

Because Raven made her stronger; Raven made her better.

And whatever came out of this Octavia would always have to thank her for that.

Always.

**

Indra and Gustus were lovely people. Raven had known them since she and Lexa were both in high school, and they had never been anything but incredibly kind and loving to her. God knows her situation with her mother and Echo was complicated enough. But Indra and Gustus never made anything complicated.

Raven wasn’t sure what Lexa had said to them to get them to agree to hosting Christmas (though she imagined it couldn’t have been that difficult; Indra and Gustus were all alone in their modest house — all of their children had grown up and had families of their own, except for Lexa and Anya). But on Christmas Eve, Lexa and Raven showed up laden down with presents and a tin of hot cocoa mix tucked under Lexa’s arm and they had been welcomed warmly and lovingly, with hugs and kisses to cheeks. It was just the four of them and Anya; none of Lexa’s other cousins would be there (Raven was thankful; she didn’t know any of Lexa’s other cousins, because by the time Lexa had moved in the other two had already graduated from college. Lexa really only knew Anya, which meant that _Raven_ really only knew Anya).

Lexa had mentioned once, teasingly, when Raven was 16 and Anya was a young 18, that Anya thought she was very beautiful. Raven had blushed and shaken off the compliment (because she was 16 and what were you supposed to do when your best friend’s older sister thought that you were beautiful?) and it had only really come up again her senior year, when Anya had come back from college for the summer.

_(A hot summer spent mostly outside. Raven and Lexa drinking cold beer in the backyard to fight against the sweltering weather. Raven, stumbling inside a little unsteadily on her feet to get to the bathroom and getting turned around in her intoxicated state. Bumping into a wall and then into Anya, who laughed and — with a firm hand on her upper arm — had steadied her. A few quiet words exchanged, a few laughs and a few smiles, and Raven had blushed as she told Anya about her friend — Finn — the boy she was crushing on and how she didn’t know what to do about it. Her quiet confession, “I’ve never even been kissed,” and then Anya’s quieter question, “Do you want to be?” and Raven’s nod, and then warm lips pushed against hers for the longest — or perhaps briefest — of moments. They never talked about it again; they never even told Lexa. But after that day she and Anya were much closer — no longer just “Lexa’s sister and Lexa’s friend” but friends to each other in their own right.)_

When she sank into Anya’s hug she had to close her eyes, even as she nuzzled into Anya’s scratchy sweater. “How are you, Raven?” Anya asked while Lexa busied (distracted?) Indra and Gustus with wine and presents being placed under a tree. “I heard about what happened.”

Raven laughed (though it wasn’t very real) and pulled back. “It feels like Lexa’s told everyone about it.”

“She’s just worried about you. I am too. I always respected Octavia.”

“You should still respect her.”

A brief pause. “Really?” She sounded unsure. “After everything that happened?”

“ _I_ still respect her.”

“Then you are a better person than I am.”

“No one’s arguing that, Ahn,” Lexa’s voice said from very close, laughing as she sidled up next to Raven. “You can’t compete with Raven. She’s smarter and funnier and prettier than you.” Raven laughed (and it was a little more real). “Do you want to put your presents under the tree?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“We just finished preparing dinner,” Indra said from somewhere off to her left, “so as soon as you’re ready my two girls can set the table, and Raven you can help me with the wine.”

She smiled and let Lexa dictate where her presents would go (“ _Well it just has to be perfect, Raven”_ ). Indra always put her to work whenever she was over. She couldn’t say that she exactly minded.

She would do a million chores for Indra, if she asked.

\--

God bless the Woods clan. They were really… they were really something. It was hard to imagine, what with Lexa’s stoicism and Indra’s harsh voice and strict rules, but they were possibly the kindest people Raven had ever known.

Gustus was a silent man, but when he spoke his words were weighted and soft and intelligent. The few jokes he cracked always brought thunderous laughter.

Lexa was serious until she wasn’t; obtuse at understanding subversive humor until she slid a sly comment into the conversation so smoothly that Raven almost couldn’t believe that she had spoken the words. Her laughter was bright and clear, and she spent most of the time at their table making sure everyone had enough food on their plates and gushing about Clarke, and Clarke’s art, and Clarke’s smile, and Clarke’s stories. It was adorable, for the most part. (She felt Anya nudge her foot under the table during a few of the longer-winded Clarke praise sessions, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud.)

Anya teased and gibed, and her words cut but they didn’t hurt. She spent a good amount of time digging into Lexa’s relationship (to Lexa’s chagrin and to Raven’s amusement). She knew that Anya and Clarke liked each other a lot, but it hadn’t started out that way (Anya had thought Clarke frivolous and full of unrealistic ideals, and Clarke had called Anya “a straight up bitch” so that had been interesting). She liked to remind Lexa of that fact often.

Anya, as the only one of them with a full-time job, could also regale the table with the absolutely fascinating world of being the Vice President to a moderately-successful tech startup (if Raven was ever poor and jobless and homeless she would be counting on Anya to keep her off of the streets).

Indra chided and asked. She told Lexa she was working too hard or not working hard enough, she told Anya that she was too skinny, she lamented the length of her husband’s beard (but her voice was never serious). But mostly she asked; she kept people talking. She brought up Lexa’s studies and Clarke’s work and Anya’s job and Raven’s family and Gustus’ side-project (fixing cars in his garage). She filled the wine and she broke in when needed and her cold voice cutting across Anya’s teasing words brought smiles and smiles and smiles to Raven’s lips.

And Raven rarely had to say a word. The table was never silent or awkward (like it was at her house). She didn’t have to speak unless she wanted to, which was a blessing she didn’t know she required. She had to thank Lexa for whatever she said to her aunt and uncle, because they seemed determined to distract Raven at every turn.

And it worked, for the most part. It worked swimmingly.

She did not have a chance to think about Octavia in-depth for the entire night.

(She still thought of her; of course she did. How could she not? Octavia was never far from her mind. But with the laughing table and with Anya’s foot nudging hers every so often, and with Indra always filling her wine glass and with Gustus’ quiet wisdom, Octavia existed in her mind only as a pleasant backdrop. The only memories Raven had the chance to recall were the happy ones — and of those there were many. She thought nothing of secrets or soulmates or destiny, just recalled the soft pressure of Octavia’s hand on her lower back, the smell of Octavia’s shampoo, the tinkling sound of her laughter on cold winter mornings, wet kisses pressed to her cheek in the middle of the night.)

And she was happier than she had been in a while.

**

Lexa’s family was one of those that opened their presents on Christmas night (blasphemy, in Octavia’s opinion. She had said as much when Lexa had mentioned the tradition to her several months ago). Raven didn’t mind at all, really. She wasn’t big on presents. She much preferred giving to receiving.

But Lexa’s family knew that (because of course they did). They didn’t buy her much, and it wasn’t extravagant. A warm hoodie from Lexa, a silken scarf from Anya, and a braille book of poetry from Indra and Gustus.

It was one of her better Christmases, because Christmas with the Woods was never big and loud and wild.

(She briefly allowed herself to imagine a Christmas with Octavia — and so of course if it was with Octavia it would likely include Bellamy and Clarke and Lincoln and Lexa — all shouting voices and loud laughter and wrestling. She imagined music playing through their tiny apartment, Octavia pressed tightly up against her body and singing carols loudly and off-key into her ear, while pressing short kisses and sharp nips to her neck. She imagined warm eggnog and and a hot fire and sock-clad feet tucked underneath her thighs and Octavia’s nose brushing against her hair as she whispered soft platitudes against her skin. She imagined the smell of pine in their home, she imagined Lincoln picking her up in a bear-hug that forced all of the air out of her lungs, she imagined them all stacked onto their couch while the cartoon version of _The Grinch_ played on the TV — and she didn’t need it to be described because she had seen it so many times she had it memorized at this point.)

(She allowed herself the brief freedom to picture a Christmas with her girlfriend and her best friends and grew incredibly nostalgic for something that had not happened to her and had to close her eyes for a long moment and let Lexa and Indra’s soft conversation pull her back to reality.)

She did feel guilty, though. For taking Lexa away from Clarke today. Lexa insisted that that wasn’t what had happened, that Raven didn’t “ _take her”_ from anyone or anything, that she loved Christmas with her cousin and with her aunt and uncle and with Raven and that she wouldn’t have it any other way. And that was true, to a certain degree, but Raven also knew that Lexa missed Clarke. She knew who Lexa had spent a good 45 minutes on the phone to late in the afternoon, and it certainly wasn’t Lincoln or Bellamy. And as much as she loved Lexa and loved Christmas with Lexa’s family, she did feel guilty about taking Lexa from Clarke.

And she missed Octavia. She really, really missed Octavia. Not in a painful way, just in an always-present sort of way. She missed Octavia deeply, like a thick weight in her chest. She felt the clear absence of Octavia so keenly that, in the hour or so between presents and dinner, she excused herself from the festivities in order to slink into a bathroom and sink to the floor.

Her phone was clutched in her hand, and she turned it over and over as she thought and thought and thought.

In the end, she really had no choice. Because she never really had any kind of choice when it came to Octavia.

She hit her speed-dial (Octavia had knocked Lexa off of the number one spot about eight months into their relationship, and Lexa had belly-ached about it but Raven knew she hadn’t really meant it).

It rang four times, loud and long and slow. And right when she was worried no one would pick up, the ringtone cut off abruptly. There was a moment of silence before Octavia’s voice, quiet and shaky, said, “Hello?”

Raven leaned her head back against the cool door. She closed her eyes and took the first full breath she had been able to inhale in probably two weeks.

“Hey, O,” she practically whispered through the phone. She thought maybe Octavia wouldn’t hear her, had not heard the barely uttered phrase, but then Octavia’s breath _whooshed_ through the speakers, heavy and thick and sounding almost an inch away from sobs.

_“H–hey,”_ she said back (not quite as quietly but certainly quite as reverently). _“Hey. I’m sorry I… sorry. It’s just… really,_ really _good to hear your voice.”_

Raven smiled, perhaps in spite of herself. “Yours too, Octavia.”

_“Merry Christmas, by the way.”_

Raven felt a lone tear trickle out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah… back at you.”

A beat, a long silence between them where they just listened to the low and quiet and comforting sounds of their breathing. _“I miss you,”_ Octavia whispered, and a few more tears built up at the edge of Raven’s eyes and threatened to spill over.

She swallowed thickly. “I miss you too.”

Octavia breathed out heavily and it sounded very relieved. _“Oh that’s… that’s good.”_

Something tugged at the side of Raven’s mouth. “It’s good that I miss you?”

_“No that… well yeah, sort of. I was worried… worried you might not.”_

A long pause, before Raven breathed out, “ _Octavia_ ,” and the word was thick and heavy with… with _something_ , but Raven wasn’t even sure what, and Octavia was quick to cut in before she could figure it out.

_“I’m s–sorry,_ ” she stuttered, _“I’m sorry that was… that was inappropriate of me I shouldn’t have… I’m not trying to guilt you into anything I just want you to know that. I get that you… that you still need space and I_ so _respect that and I just… sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way that it did.”_

“It’s okay, Octavia. I’d rather… I’d rather you tell me than not tell me. Communication is… well we should both probably try to work on it, you know?”

A heavy, pregnant silence. There was something in Raven’s words that had ignited inside of Octavia, drawing her breath short and cutting off her words. _“To… to work on it?”_ She asked, almost breathless. _“You want to… to work on… this?”_

Raven closed her eyes and thought for many long moments.

_Did_ she want to work on this? Did she want to… was she ready? Was two weeks enough time to heal, to forgive, to… to try and repair?

The short answer was no; it was not enough time. She had not healed, she had not forgiven, and she wasn’t sure anything could ever be repaired. What had transpired between them had been… it had been horrible. It had been dreadful and painful and messy and heartbreaking and it had thrown her entire world off its axis. It had completely shaken her and stretched her to her limits.

It had demolished her.

So no, she had not healed from the pain, she had not forgive Octavia for the betrayal, and they had certainly not repaired their relationship.

Two weeks was not long enough for that.

But two weeks was long enough for her to recognize a few very important things about her relationship:

 

1.) She missed Octavia. She missed her like someone had cut a hole in her, like someone had reached into her stomach and scooped out all the important bits and left only pain and a clenching sort of discomfort and a feeling of illness and despair and anxiety.

2.) Her life was quieter, and lonelier, and less full of laughter and joy. And Octavia’s absence was a big part of that.

3.) It was hard to sleep without Octavia’s warm body nestled just next to hers — sometimes touching, sometimes not, but always near enough _to_ reach, if she needed.

4.) She loved Octavia. Despite everything… despite what had happened and what had been said and not said and done and not done… she loved Octavia. And she knew that Octavia loved her. And in the end, she was pretty sure that that was all that mattered.

 

So no, two weeks had not been enough time for her to heal or fix anything. But it was enough time to realize that she wanted to try, that… that she _needed_ to try. Because she wanted Octavia; she needed her like she needed air and water and food.

“Yes,” she answered truthfully, “I want to work on this, on… on us.” A sharp exhale from the other end of the line. “Is that okay?” She asked, quieter now and less certain.

_“Yes, Raven._ Christ _, yes it’s okay, I… thank you. I just… I love you, you know that?”_

She smiled though she may not have entirely wanted to. “Yes Octavia, I know that.”

_“Good. Good it’s good that you know.”_ They didn’t speak for a while. Octavia cleared her throat and offered, _“So I’ll just… leave you to your Christmas plans and I’ll… can I call you? Tomorrow?”_

Raven smiled though no one could see it. “Tomorrow sounds great.”

_“Okay. Okay, tomorrow. I… I’ll hear from you tomorrow.”_

“Goodnight, Octavia. Merry Christmas.”

_“Merry Christmas, love.”_

And when they hung up Raven didn’t return Octavia’s term of endearment; she didn’t respond with her own declaration of love; she didn’t proclaim her devotion for all of the heavens to hear.

But she didn’t need to. Octavia knew that Raven loved her. She knew.

But she also knew that Raven was hurt, that Raven still hadn’t forgiven her (it was so soon, she expected nothing less), knew that Raven wasn’t ready; not yet. She was still rebuilding, still fixing, still trying to repair herself and find herself again.

And Octavia knew that she wasn’t ready yet, to reaffirm her love.

Octavia understood, and she didn’t hold it against her.

She would love Raven enough for the both of them, love her enough until, one day, Raven loved her as openly and as fearlessly as she once had. She could wait. She had her entire life to earn Raven’s trust again.

She wasn’t letting go this time.

**


End file.
